


Heart's Desire

by Malibusunset



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:25:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 101,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9349025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malibusunset/pseuds/Malibusunset





	1. Chapter 1

Title: Heart’s Desire

Author: Malibu Sunset

Email: [malibusunset88@gmail.com](mailto:malibusunset88@gmail.com)

Rating: Strong R (sex, language, and thematic material).

Time Frame: Sometime after One Son. Mulder and Scully have the X Files back.

Classification: Novel; Scully/Other; MSR; Angst; Case File

Summary: Mulder and Scully investigate the murder of a teenaged girl in a small resort town, and its connection to an eleven-year-old boy with Savant Syndrome whose drawings have a paranormal flair. While on the case, Scully runs into an old flame and does some soul searching of her own.

Disclaimers: Mulder and Scully aren’t mine, but I love them like they were. All the other characters are originals. This story features a child with Autism and Savant Syndrome. Although I did some basic research, I am in no way an expert on either. It was my intention to present the character with sensitivity and integrity and I hope I’ve done that.

Literary credit for the poem, Beyond the Sea, goes to Thomas Love Peacock.

Special Thanks: To my lovely and brilliant beta, Steph, who has been with me on every step of this journey.  All those late night chats, fleshing out characters, untangling the case file, plugging up plot holes, even looking up goofy things like marine mammal rescue. No one gets there alone. This story belongs to her as much as it does to me. XXX You’re the most amazing beta ever.

To Sing Happy, for listening to me obsess over this for four months and for tirelessly cheering me on. To Blue Samutra, for her words of encouragement and for understanding the pain of the process like only another writer can.

NOTES ON POSTING: This is a completed, novel-length story.   

 

PART ONE

FBI Headquarters, Basement Office

Dana Scully stormed into the basement office at a half past nine wearing an overcoat and holding a partially folded, drenched umbrella out to the side. She shook out of her coat and ran fingers through her damp hair, abandoning the umbrella against the wall where it promptly created its own puddle.

“What happened to you?” asked Mulder with a half smile, pushing a styrofoam cup of coffee across the desk toward her.

“It’s a monsoon out there. The Beltway’s moving along at the breakneck speed of fifteen miles per hour. When it’s moving.” She plopped down into the chair across from Mulder, removed her black suede pumps and held them up. Rain water dripped onto the desk blotter. 

“Those new?” he asked.

“Yup. You’d think I’d learn by now.”

“You’d think.” He tilted his head in a mix of sympathy and amusement.

Scully took the coffee cup and held it between two palms, warming her hands.

“Good weekend?” he asked innocently. Or at least it seemed that way.

She shrugged. “It was all right. I got some research done on a journal article, did some shopping.” What kind of answer did he expect? I hit the clubs Friday night until closing time, followed a bunch of Bohemians home to somewhere on the west side, burned incense, smoked reefer, and made love all weekend. What did you do, Mulder?

It used to be that it wasn’t awkward to discuss their weekend plans with one another. That sometimes they’d even get together on a Saturday night for a movie or some Thai food and a bottle of wine. At the very least, she’d always receive one or two phone calls over the course of a weekend.

That was then. Before El Rico. Before they lost the X Files. Before…a lot of things.

Since then a lot had changed.

First, Diana Fowley had shown up out of nowhere with questionable motives, long legs, and a history with Mulder that was even longer. Then there had been the almost-kiss in his hallway, followed by an ill-conceived and unplanned trip to Antarctica. She had gotten shot, recovered, saw him naked in a decon shower, questioned his trust in her, and wanted to slap him so hard that she had to make fists and dig her nails into her palms to keep from leaving her handprint on his cheek.

She had thought she knew where she stood with him. Thought that the way he looked at her hadn’t been just her imagination. But now she was left questioning everything, feeling like perhaps she had been simply spinning her wheels for the last couple of years. And now they had the X Files back and all she could think of to do was work. So that’s what she did.  

Her gaze drifted over the stacks of photos Mulder had layered across his desk as she took sips. “What have we got?”

Mulder cleared his throat and tossed a manila folder across the photos to land in front of her with a thwack. “What do you know about Savant Syndrome, Scully?”

She took a deep breath and opened the file, fingering through the paperwork. “Well, I know it’s rare. It usually affects people with neurodevelopmental disorders, most commonly of the autism spectrum. Subjects typically demonstrate profound abilities or gifts in areas such as music, art, and mathematics that are in far excess of normal. Nearly all savants have pronounced social deficiencies. About half are autistic, while the other half suffer from other psychological disorders or mental illness.”

“Rain man,” said Mulder.

“That’s one depiction of savantism in the media. The movie was based on the real life case of a man named Kim Peek. There have been other famous cases – musical slave prodigy, Thomas Bethune, American sculptor, Alonzo Clemons. The cases are well-documented.”

Mulder stood and walked over to dim the lights, then returned to the slide projector and flipped it on.  “Meet Henry Bishop, eleven-year-old art prodigy from Solomon’s Island, Maryland.”

“That’s not far from here,” said Scully, scrunching her forehead and studying the photo of a thin, fair-skinned boy with curly hair and distant eyes.

“Henry is the only child of Sarah and Neil Bishop, owners of a local coffee shop. He was diagnosed with autism at age three and has been completely homeschooled. Henry is also mute.”

Scully raised two brows. “Deaf?”

“No. His hearing is normal.”

“That’s very unusual.”

“Autistic children are often selectively mute,” said Mulder.

“Yes, but they typically do communicate with someone – a parent or caregiver – especially by age eleven. Complete mutism is very rare.”

“Well, that’s just it. Henry does communicate, just not the way you or I do. He draws.” Mulder advanced to the next slide, then through several more. Drawings of scenery, of people, of mythical characters decorated the screen, most in black and white, some in color. Scully’s eyes widened at the intricate details, the lines, depth, and definition.

“They’re extraordinary, Mulder. But I’m afraid to ask how this concerns us.”

“Funny you should ask, Scully.” Mulder flipped off the projector and turned on the lights.  “As it turns out, Henry’s drawings are…shall we say, a little more than just pretty pictures.”

Scully eyed him curiously. This was always the point where her crap detector went on full alert, despite her continued efforts to try and keep an open mind.

“It would appear that Henry’s drawings give all new meaning to the word ‘creativity.’ Apparently, the things that Henry draws come true.”

Scully’s brows went to her hairline. It couldn’t be helped. “You mean like Harold and the Purple Crayon?”

“Sort of, only it would seem that Henry’s talent is not self-serving, but rather altruistic in nature. He gifts things to people through his art. He puts pencil to paper, and voila,” Mulder snapped his fingers and smiled, “wish granted.”

She blinked at him repeatedly, eyes mocking. “Like what?   A puppy? A new car? ” She pursed her lips and settled back into the chair, arms crossed in front of her.

“I’m not sure exactly, but I think… sometimes even bigger. Supposedly, over the years, Henry’s drawings have cured illnesses and infertility, repaired marriages, saved people from bankruptcy, even brought home lost family pets.”  

Scully lowered her chin and fixed him with the all too common ‘not buying it’ look. “Mulder. What you’re suggesting is preposterous. That this autistic child who doesn’t speak a word can give people their heart’s desires by simply drawing it?”

“It’s not entirely unprecedented, Scully. There have been documented cases throughout history of psychic art. Just because this kid may not understand exactly what it is he’s doing doesn’t mean that his gift isn’t taking over in some sort of supernatural way.”

“Okay, supposing for a second that this is true, how is it possible that this has not been all over the media by now. Solomon’s Island is only fifty miles from here, Mulder. Don’t you think that the local newspapers would have picked up on this story?”

“According to the local sheriff, who happens to be our point of contact, only Henry’s parents have been aware of his gift…until now.”

“Well, why break the silence?”

Mulder held up his index finger and with a somber expression, he clicked through several more slides before landing on one that made Scully hiss in a deep breath. “Oh God,” she whispered.

It was a charcoal drawing of a young woman lying on the floor, limbs bent at unnatural angles, head turned dramatically to the side. She was clearly dead, her lifeless eyes fixed into a glassy stare that seemed so real to Scully, it could have been a photograph she was looking at. The drawing was completely black and white.  

“Amy Rhodes, seventeen-year-old high school senior, murdered in her home last Wednesday. Amy worked as a waitress after school in the coffee shop owned by the Bishops. This drawing of her was discovered the day after Amy was found dead.”

“How was she killed?”

“According to the ME, she was knocked unconscious, then strangled. There was no weapon found at the scene.”

“Was she hit with something?”

Mulder shook his head. “No. A search of the crime scene revealed hair and skull fragments on the edge of a brick fireplace hearth.” He looked at Scully, waiting for her to connect the dots like she did so well.

“So... Amy struggled with her killer and fell and hit her head. It was someone she knew.”

“There were no signs of forced entry,” agreed Mulder.

“This wasn’t a premeditated murder, then. It was a crime of passion,” concluded Scully.

Mulder nodded. “But the fall wasn’t what killed her; she was strangled. Someone was all too happy to finish the job.”

“Was it Mr. and Mrs. Bishop who turned over Henry’s drawing to authorities?” asked Scully.

“No. Another coffee shop worker did. It was found hidden among some paperwork in Sarah Bishop’s desk. When the Bishops were confronted by the sheriff, they confessed to hiding the drawing to protect their son. They insist that there is no way Henry could have had anything to do with Amy’s death.”

 “And what about local authorities? They think Henry killed this girl?”

“They don’t know what to think. According to Henry’s mother, he was with her at home at the time of the murder.”

“Parental alibis aren’t always reliable,” Scully pointed out and Mulder nodded in agreement.

 “Does he have a history of violent behavior?” asked Scully.

“No, none. And he hasn’t been arrested.”

 “Has anyone interviewed the parents?”

“Just Sheriff Fletcher. Apparently, the Bishops are cooperating fully with the investigation, are aware that the FBI has been contacted, and have requested to speak with us. So I think we should drive down there and see what they have to say.” Mulder stood up from his desk and slid his suit jacket off the back of his chair. “Besides, it’s a beautiful day for a drive down the coast.”

Scully eyed her nearly ruined black suede pumps and her wet umbrella and sighed.

“Maybe if you’re lucky, Scully, Henry will draw you a new pair of shoes,” smiled Mulder.

*******


	2. Chapter 2

Calvert County Sheriff’s Office

The torrential rains let up with the traffic as they made their way south down Route 4. It was indeed a beautiful drive. Scully hadn’t been down to Solomon’s Island in almost seven years. Jack had brought her there for a weekend toward the end of their relationship. Looking back on it, it had been a well-meaning, yet ultimately unsuccessful attempt at rescuing what was left of their struggling romance. She didn’t foresee any good in sharing this particular bit of information with Mulder, so when he asked her if she’d ever been to Solomon’s Island, she answered evasively, something she did well and he had learned to take in stride.

The Calvert County Sheriff’s Office was located on the outskirts of Solomon’s Island, about ten miles from the center of the small fishing village. Scully knew it to be an affluent area with a very low crime rate. The main industries in Solomon’s Island itself focused on tourism and fishing; it was a popular summer weekend get-away for city slickers. Although it happened to be off-season, the overall culture was still very casual and laid-back, a notable departure from the hustle and bustle of city life only an hour away. As Scully exited the government fleet sedan in her black, fitted pantsuit and watched as Mulder tugged on his Armani jacket, she had a distinct fish out of water feeling. It was unlikely their presence would go unnoticed.

The Sheriff’s Office was small, but modern and comfortable. A kind looking woman about Scully’s mother’s age with a pen tucked behind her ear smiled at them when they entered. “I’m betting you’re the agents from the FBI the Sheriff is expecting.”

Mulder pulled his badge, unnecessarily, as this woman had no question in her mind who they were. “Special Agent Mulder. This is my partner, Special Agent Scully.”   

“I’ll let the Sheriff know you’re here.” The woman excused herself down a small hallway.

Mulder’s eyes surveyed his surroundings. “It’s too quiet in here. I’m guessing they don’t see much violent crime in Calvert County, Maryland.”

Scully nodded. “I’m guessing you’re right.”

A few minutes later, a very tall, thin man approached them in long confident strides with his hand outstretched. “Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, pleased to meet you. I’m Davis Fletcher.” Handshakes were exchanged and they were escorted into a small room with a conference table at the end of the hallway and offered coffee, which they both declined. Scully was struck by how young the sheriff was. In her estimation, he appeared to be about thirty.

Sheriff Fletcher spread several folders on the table in front of them and opened the covers, then pushed everything toward Mulder and Scully as an invitation to peruse the case material.

“I appreciate you coming down here and I don’t know what kinds of cases you usually deal with, but I’m guessing this must sound really bizarre,” said the sheriff, leaning forward in his chair with his hands steepled in front of his mouth.

You’d be surprised, thought Scully. Bizarre is relative.

“Sheriff, what can you tell us about Henry Bishop’s…gift?” asked Scully.

“Well, that’s just it. Not much, I’m afraid. I’m trying to understand it myself. I’m not even sure I believe it. But I grew up in this town, have known the Bishops for a long time, went to high school with Sarah’s younger sister. I just can’t imagine that Henry could have done this.”

“So you were unaware of Henry’s abilities until recently,” said Mulder.

“Not exactly. I knew Henry could draw like crazy, everybody knows it. That part’s no secret. But this business about Henry being able to…to make things happen with his drawing…well, that’s a new one. And according to Henry’s parents, it’s been going on for years and they’ve kept it a secret.”

“Why do you think they didn’t tell anyone until now?” asked Mulder.

Sheriff Fletcher sighed. “This is a small town, Agent Mulder. Tourists come and go with the seasons, but some of these families, they’ve been here for generations. If Henry’s gift really is what the Bishops say it is, can you imagine what the media would do to him? To this entire town?”

“What about the victim, Amy Rhodes? Was she a local girl?” asked Scully, pulling a notepad and pen from her inside pocket.

“As local as they come. Oldest of three girls in the family. Amy was a good kid, above average student in school, on the Varsity cheerleading team, hard worker. She’d never been in any kind of trouble with the law. She would have graduated this spring and had plans to travel before going to college. This is just…” The sheriff voice trailed off as he shook his head and ran long narrow fingers through his chestnut hair.

“Amy waitressed for the Bishops in the coffee shop, is that correct?” Scully made careful and neat notes.

“A couple of afternoons during the week after school let out. She’d worked for them for at least a year. The Bishops are devastated by this, everyone is. I’ve only been sheriff here for three years now, but I know the history of this town and we haven’t had a murder on Solomon’s Island in a decade. Sure, there are accidental deaths and drownings, the run-of-the-mill tragedies that happen in any seaside tourist town, but a violent murder like this one? It just doesn’t happen. People are in shock.”

 Mulder sifted slowly through the photographs in front of him, stopping on the black and white drawing of the crime scene and pulling it out carefully to examine it. His hazel eyes darted around the page and he chewed his bottom lip like he did when a million different thoughts were mingling together in that beautiful brain of his. Scully might have been distracted by that full bottom lip if she wasn’t so determined not to be distracted by any and all of his body parts lately. Just when she thought she was making some headway, she’d get sideswiped by a random moment like this and lose her focus. She drew a deep breath and redirected her attention to her tiny notepad and intently underlined a few words for no good reason, her black pen bleeding much like her heart.

“How did you get this drawing, Sheriff?” Mulder’s voice interrupted Scully’s self-indulgent thoughts.

“Nina Rubano, another waitress, brought it in two days after the murder. Said she found it buried beneath some paperwork on Sarah Bishop’s desk at the diner. She had no idea what to do, was in tears. She hasn’t been back to the diner since.”

“Do you have any reason not to trust Ms. Rubano’s story?” Mulder asked. “What reason would she have had for going through Sarah Bishop’s paperwork?”

“I’m convinced that Nina doesn’t know any more than she’s already told me. She’s a single mom, just trying to put food on the table. She said she went into the office to look for next month’s schedule because she needed to request a few days off, and found the drawing.”

“And when you confronted the Bishops with the drawing, Sheriff – that’s when they told you about Henry’s so called ‘gift’?” Scully asked, being overly careful how she chose her words so as not to give the erroneous impression that there was any more to this than artistic talent masquerading as the paranormal.

“Yes.”

“And is there any other evidence besides the drawing to link Henry Bishop to the crime?”

“No, nothing but the drawing.”

“What about at the crime scene? What kind of evidence did forensics come up with?” asked Scully, sifting through the various crime scene glossies.

Sheriff Fletcher sighed. “Very little besides hair, blood, and skull fragments on the brick hearth. The blood was a match for Amy Rhodes. The only prints lifted from the house were of Amy’s parents and her friends but they’ve all been interviewed and cleared as suspects. No signs of forced entry. It would appear that Amy allowed the killer into her house voluntarily while her parents weren’t home.”

“Was there a boyfriend?” Mulder asked, eyes narrowing but staying trained on the pile of photos.

The sheriff nodded. “Luke Bennett. Also a high school senior, but he has a rock solid alibi. The ME puts time of death between three and five p.m. last Wednesday. Luke was forty miles away at a basketball game, rode there and back on a bus.”

“So an autopsy has already been performed then,” said Scully, scratching away on her notepad.

“It has.”

“I’d like to take a look at those results, Sheriff.”

“Of course. Agent Mulder indicated you’d want to when we spoke on the phone. The results are still with the county morgue, but they’re expecting you. I thought maybe you’d want to interview the Bishops first. They’ll be at the coffee shop all day. You can follow me, if you’d like.”

*******


	3. Chapter 3

Second Cup Café, Solomon’s Island, Maryland

Sarah Bishop was a slight woman with long goldspun hair, puffy eyes and birdlike hands that trembled like an addict when she poured coffee. It was evident that the stress of the past few days had taken a toll on this woman, who had to be no more than thirty-five, but looked a decade older. Scully smiled sympathetically and thanked her for the coffee. However, what her attention was really focused on, what she could not seem to tear her gaze away from, was the fair-skinned boy with arresting blue eyes and a mop of curly hair in the booth at the far corner of the restaurant.

Henry seemed not to take notice of their presence, really of anything going on around him. He was focused intently on the sketchpad in front of him, his left hand holding a thick charcoal pencil balanced between his thumb, middle and ring finger. His body rocked forward and backward rhythmically and his lips formed silent words. Every once in awhile, he would cease drawing, his forehead would scrunch and his eyes would slam shut, like he was suddenly struck by a thought or inspiration so intense that he had to puzzle it out in desperation. Then his eyes would fly open, his face would relax and his pencil would start up again with its maniacal movement. He was a beautiful boy – sleepy aquamarine eyes and unblemished skin the color of ivory bisque. Scully felt she could have watched the boy all day. There was just something about him that fascinated her.

“My husband can join us in a few minutes,” said Sarah Bishop in a voice that reminded Scully of lullabies and warm milk. “But we can get started if you’d like. Are you sure we can’t offer you some lunch? There’s a fresh pot of clam chowder, just made it myself this morning.”

“Thank you,” replied Mulder, politely. “Maybe to-go later.”

Scully warmed to Sarah Bishop right away. She had kind eyes and a gentle, melancholy smile that hinted at a life spent putting others before herself. “I’m assuming you have questions…about Henry,” she said, her eyes darting to her son and then back again.

Scully nodded and forced her attention away from Henry and onto her notepad where she had a series of questions jotted down neatly, with space left under each to accommodate detailed written answers. “Can you tell us about his condition, Mrs. Bishop? About Henry’s autism?”

The woman drew a deep breath. “We tried for almost four years to have Henry. I had just about given up – I was ready to, but Neil had his heart set on a son. Then I got pregnant and we were so happy.” Her small hands unclasped and she picked absently at a cuticle. “Henry was such an easy baby. He never gave us any fuss. Looking back on it now, I can see the signs, but we had no idea then. The first year of his life was normal; he hit all the milestones on schedule. His language development was even within the normal range. But around eighteen months, we started noticing changes. He became less interactive, smiled less, and seemed withdrawn. He stopped babbling and took to staying silent most of the time, didn’t even cry all that much.”

Scully nodded sympathetically as her pen moved on the page. What Sarah Bishop was describing were classic symptoms of early autism that often went undiagnosed. The range of normal childhood development was vast and there were no concrete tests for autism in infants. Diagnosis was generally made through observation over time and unless parents were persistent in documenting behavior, it was often difficult for a pediatrician to pinpoint autism based on limited contact with patients.

“When was Henry diagnosed, Mrs. Bishop?” Scully asked.

“Three months before his third birthday. By then he had stopped talking completely. He hasn’t used verbal communication since then.”

Just then a stocky man with Henry’s eyes and chin approached their table. “You must be the folks from the FBI,” he said, pulling out a chair and extending a hand.

“These are Agents Scully and Mulder,” said Sarah Bishop. “This is my husband, Neil.”

Handshakes were exchanged and the man sat down next to his wife, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers. Neil Bishop was older than his wife. It was difficult to tell by how much, but perhaps ten years. He had an air of sobriety about him and Scully sensed that he was accustomed to being listened to.

“Thank you for coming down here. We want to help in any way we can. I think you’ll see after a thorough investigation that there’s just no way Henry could have had anything to do with Amy’s death.” Neil Bishop reached for his wife’s hand and covered it with his own. “Amy was a great girl – as nice as they come - but it’s easy for kids to fall in with the wrong crowd and make poor decisions these days.”

Mulder tilted his head curiously. “What kinds of decisions would those be, Mr. Bishop? Do you think that Amy’s lifestyle put her in danger?”

“It’s hard to say, but there were times when she came to work and we questioned whether or not she was on something. And she was always arguing with that boyfriend of hers on the phone.”

“Did either of you see Amy the day she died?” Mulder pressed.

Sarah Bishop shook her head. “No, Amy had Wednesdays off. The last time we saw her was on Tuesday afternoon for her regular shift.”

“Did you notice anything out of the ordinary that day,” Mulder asked, “about Amy’s behavior?”

Sarah looked toward her husband to answer for both of them. Neil Bishop rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he spoke. “Can’t say that we did. Nothing that raised concerns anyway.”

“Can you tell us about Henry’s drawings?” Mulder asked. “Sheriff Fletcher indicated that you’ve known for awhile there was something unusual about Henry’s art.”

Neil Bishop’s jaw seemed to tighten and he exchanged looks with his wife. She drew a deep breath and spoke. “Henry began drawing as soon as he could hold a pencil. Even from the beginning it was more than just the scribblings of a toddler. He drew to communicate with us – if he wanted his blanket or a specific thing to eat, he’d draw it. From the time he was about four years old, he began spending his days in the coffee shop with us. That’s his booth over there.” She gestured with a tilt of her head. “He won’t …sit anywhere else. He started out drawing things he saw everyday – people who came into the restaurant, animals, landscapes, cartoon characters  – just normal things that kids draw…only in much more detail. But then…we began noticing something….different.”

“Different how, Mrs. Bishop?” Mulder asked gently.

“Did it start with the Dobson’s baby?” Neil asked his wife quietly. She shook her head. “It was my mother’s surgery.”

“That could have been a coincidence.”

“It wasn’t,” she said, firmly and Neil went silent again. “When Henry was just four years old, my mother took a fall and fractured her hip. It happened just three weeks before she was scheduled to take a trip to Italy to visit her sisters. She was heartbroken, thinking she’d have to cancel. She scheduled hip surgery and was just about to cancel her trip when her x-rays showed a complete recovery. There was no sign whatsoever of the fracture. It was just…gone. The doctors had no explanation for it.”

“And you think Henry was responsible for your mother’s recovery?” Scully asked.

“The day before my mother received the news that her hip had miraculously healed, Henry drew two pictures. One was of his grandmother on an airplane. The other was of her with her two sisters in Italy. We didn’t think anything of it at first. They were just child’s drawings. But then, other things…started to happen. Friends of ours, the Dobsons, they couldn’t have children, had tried for years just like we did with Henry. They finally got on a waiting list to adopt. Just days after they were put on a list, we found a drawing that Henry had made showing Jim and Kelly Dobson holding a baby girl. Almost immediately after, they got a call from an adoption agency telling them that they had a baby. They had been waiting for two years. We still thought it was a coincidence back then. But after this sort of thing happens again and again, you have to start to wonder if it’s more than that.”

Scully studied Neil Bishop, whose tight features spoke volumes. “What do you think about your son’s drawings, Mr. Bishop?”

He shrugged and ran a hand through his sandy hair. “I don’t know what to think. I’ll admit it’s not…normal. I don’t have an explanation, but I still think it’s a stretch to assume that Henry is causing these things to happen. I mean, that’s just not possible, right?”

His wife’s eyes pleaded with him. “There is no other explanation.” She scanned the coffee shop and her gaze stopped on a man seated at the counter of the restaurant. She gestured with a nod. “See that older man over there with the red flannel shirt? That’s Larry Kane. He’s been coming in here for lunch every day for years. He hadn’t seen his son in two decades. All Larry ever talked about was that he wanted to see his son again. Six months ago, I found a picture that Henry drew of Larry and a young man with glasses and a bald eagle tattoo on his arm. The next day, Larry came in the coffee shop with his twenty-eight year old son, Charles, who had called him out of the blue. Charles looked exactly like the man in Henry’s drawing.”

Scully’s face remained professionally neutral, but she glanced at Mulder and recognized his familiar expression. It was the one that forewarned her to expect a lengthy discussion later that would leave her feeling like she was banging her head against a brick wall. Her partner needn’t to spell it out for her to see that he believed this was an X file. Scully was far less convinced.

“Mrs. Bishop,” she began, “it’s obvious that Henry is incredibly talented and that you love him very much.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

Scully chose her response carefully. “I believe that you’re telling us the truth about what you see in Henry’s drawings-“

“You know, you want to believe it’s nothing at first,” Sarah Bishop cut in, a nervous smile playing on her lips. “You talk yourself out of it. I mean, it just doesn’t make any sense. How could a child’s drawings do…things like this?” She looked at her husband’s face, like she was hoping for reassurance, but Neil Bishop’s eyes were fixed, even and expressionless. Sarah took a deep breath. “But after years of it, of hearing about people’s lives being changed – the sick being healed, lost pets being found safe, marriages restored, debts being paid off – you start to believe.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Bishop, has Henry ever drawn anything before like the picture of Amy Rhodes that you found two days ago?” asked Mulder.

“No, of course not,” replied Neil.

“No, never,” agreed Sarah, shaking her head.

Mulder glanced at Scully, catching her eye, and then cleared his throat. “And in your opinion, is there any way at all that Henry could be connected to the death of Amy Rhodes?”

“Absolutely not,” said Neil.

“God, no.” Sarah Bishop’s eyes flooded and she shook her head.     

Scully’s gaze returned to Henry, who was still rocking, but had placed his pencil down and was tapping his fingertips on the table top. “We’d like to speak with Henry, if it’s alright with you,” she said carefully.

Henry’s parents exchanged looks and Scully recognized protectiveness and hesitation, rightfully so.

“You do understand that he won’t talk to you,” said Neil.

Sarah Bishop glanced at her husband. “But he can comprehend what you’re saying. His doctors say that he could just start talking at any time-“

“We don’t know that,” Neil Bishop interrupted his wife, shaking his head in disagreement.

Sarah stopped talking and pursed her lips. Her eyes connected with Scully’s.

Neil seemed to soften and he patted Sarah’s hand. “I’m sorry, Honey, but the boy is eleven years old and there’s been no change.”

Neil addressed Mulder and Scully. “Most of the time we don’t even know if he understands what we’re saying to him.”

 “He does,” Sarah Bishop said, looking down at the table, her voice hardly above a whisper. “He knows.”

Scully nodded, compassionately. She got the distinct sense that Sarah understood her son just as well as any mother, despite Henry’s challenges. She was less certain about Neil Bishop’s relationship to his son and wondered what it was that she was picking up on.  

The Bishops led the way over to the booth where Henry was now deeply focused on his art, the pencil in his hand moving in long, fast strokes over a large sketch pad. The boy seemed utterly unaware of their approach.

Scully stood to the side of the booth for a moment, hesitant, but Mulder slid in confidently across from the child. She studied her partner of five years. They had worked on cases with children before and she was always a bit amazed at how comfortable and natural Mulder was with them. Scully was extremely fond of children and related well to them, but Mulder was different. It was almost as if there was still a little child hidden somewhere within him and once in a great while, Scully caught a glimpse. She found herself pondering, on more than one occasion, what kind of father Mulder would be. And then she’d shake off the thought just as quickly as it would come, like a mad indulgence, feeling a hint of embarrassment and not quite understanding why.

Henry’s pencil stopped moving abruptly as he sensed their presence, but the boy did not look up. “Henry, there are some nice people that would like to meet you,” said his mother. Sarah gave Scully an encouraging nod and a thin smile and Scully sat down next to Mulder and placed her hands carefully in her lap underneath the table.

“Hello Henry. I’m Dana. And this is my friend, Mulder.”

The boy stared, unblinking, at the paper in front of him. He didn’t move a muscle. Scully found herself eyeing every inch of the child, fascinated, watching his blue and grey striped shirt rise and fall as he drew and released measured breaths. How was it possible not to blink for that long?

“I like your drawing,” said Mulder. “It’s a griffin.”

“Henry likes to draw mythical creatures,” said Sarah.

At the sounds of his mother’s voice, Henry’s pencil resumed its movement, sketching and shading in brisk, light strokes across the page.

“You’re an amazing artist, Henry,” said Scully. “But I’ll bet people tell you that all the time.”  

Mulder leaned in over the table and tilted his head. “When I was about your age, I used to have these dreams about griffins. I was afraid of them at first until I found out that they’re actually considered protective creatures. They help people.” Mulder paused and Henry continued sketching. “Is that what you like to do, Henry? To help people with your drawings?”

The bell on the front door to the café sounded and Scully looked to see Sheriff Fletcher walk in and offer friendly waves and nods to several patrons as he made his way back to them.

“Afternoon, Sheriff,” said Neil Bishop. “What can I get ya for lunch?”

The sheriff shook Neil’s hand. “Thank you, Neil, but I’m afraid I can’t stay today. Agent Scully, those autopsy results are waiting for you over at the morgue whenever you can make it there. I’ve got a couple of calls I need to respond to, so I’ll be out of the office this afternoon. There’s an interrogation room in the back where you can set up shop as long as you need it.”

“Thank you, Sheriff,” said Mulder. “I think we’ll take you up on that.”

Minutes later, the sheriff left on his calls and Mulder excused himself to the restroom. With Neil and Sarah Bishop’s permission, Scully continued watching Henry draw while his parents returned to their restaurant duties and the growing lunchtime crowd.

She sat directly across from Henry and leaned across the table on her elbows, mesmerized not just by the artistic expression she was observing, but the child himself. He was intense and focused. His lips moved occasionally as he drew, forming silent words and Scully wondered about the web of thoughts locked inside such a complicated and mysterious brain. In all of her clinical studies, she had never observed anything quite like this and her physician’s mind was instantly awed.

While her science made it difficult to concede that there was anything paranormal about Henry’s artistic expression, she also could not imagine that this child was responsible in any way for the death of another human being. There was simply no objective way to explain this certainty. Sometimes her science failed her.

Scully was overwhelmed by the desire to communicate with Henry and frustrated that nearly a decade of intense medical training had given her absolutely no tools to do so. She could only imagine how Sarah and Neil Bishop must feel.

“Henry,” she started, her voice unsure, “I wish I knew how to talk to you.”

The intricate picture on the sketch pad continued to take shape with each manic stroke of Henry’s hand. He took up the rocking motion again, back and forth, back and forth, and Scully watched the shocking blue irises of his eyes dart around the page like a laser.

“When I was your age, I decided that I was going to learn to paint. So I asked for art supplies for Christmas – brushes and canvases and watercolors. And I tried, I really did, but I was just terrible at it. Anyway, I was determined to paint a picture for my father for his birthday, so I –I spent days painting a picture of a boat for him. And when I gave it to him, he opened it up and said…I’ll never forget it, he said, ‘Starbuck, this is the prettiest picture of a castle that I’ve ever seen.’” Scully smiled and huffed out a tiny laugh. “That was the end of my art career. I gave all my supplies to my sister. As it turned out, she had inherited all the artistic genes in the family anyway.”

Scully smiled down at her hands as she finished talking. Suddenly she was aware that Henry’s drawing hand had stopped moving and his rocking has ceased abruptly. She looked up to find bottomless eyes the color of a cloudless day connecting with hers and she literally stopped breathing. Time stretched on into infinity as Henry seemed to stare into her soul. Scully’s mouth fell open and she caught her breath. She thought about saying something, but intelligible words escaped her and she was struck by the utter meaningless of them anyway. 

Her peripheral vision re-engaged and she was aware of a flittering of black next to her and then a hand on her shoulder. “Ready to go, Scully?”

Henry’s face snapped down and his thin hand began moving again, faster than before.

Scully blinked. “What?”

“I asked if you were ready to go. I thought I’d drop you by the morgue and then go talk to Amy Rhodes’ parents.”

Scully released a long breath and stood up from the booth. “Um, sure. I’m…um, I’m done.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said quietly.

Mulder nodded, but seemed unconvinced. He palmed her elbow and waited for a minute. “I ordered a couple of sandwiches for us to go. They should be almost ready.”

Scully nodded. “I’m going to get some fresh air. I’ll meet you outside.”

Mulder hesitated. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” Her tone betrayed vague annoyance at his routinely overprotective nature. She eyebrowed him and pursed her lips. He shrugged and lumbered off toward the front counter while she stared after him. He didn’t get to do this. He didn’t get to send her mixed signals and then treat her like she was the one suffering from emotional dyslexia. She was sick of feeling like she wanted to slap him and fuck him at the same time.

Her heels clicked loudly as she walked out of the diner onto wet sidewalks. It had stopped raining, but the April skies continued with idle threats and persistent clouds. She could smell the saltwater in the air and wondered how far they were from the waterfront. She felt like walking there and leaving Mulder to wonder where the hell she’d gone for once. Instead, she paced and lamented the fact that she didn’t still smoke. She rooted through her purse for a piece of gum and came up with a stale breath mint.

Several minutes later, Mulder exited the diner balancing two Styrofoam takeout containers on one forearm and a tray with drinks in the other hand. “Do you have the keys, Scully?”

“No, you do.”

“I think they’re in my front pants pocket. Wanna get them for me?” His smile teased.

She cocked her head disapprovingly and volleyed back her best ‘not playing’ look.  There had been a time, not too long ago, when the banter and the innuendo had been welcome, even encouraged. They had spent years dancing around the lines of propriety when it came to their professional relationship, never fully crossing, but sticking one toe over to test the waters now and again. And she was tempted to relax back into it, even now. It was just so easy. But whenever she felt herself softening, she’d flash back to that day, several weeks ago at the Gunmen’s, and that look on his face when he told her she was making it personal – that feel of her entire insides clenching as she realized that he was right, she was making it personal. And then her heart sinking as she asked herself why he wasn’t. 

“I’ll take the drinks instead,” she said, reaching. But before she could relieve him of the tray, she thought she heard her name being called out from somewhere across the street.   

“Dana? Dana Scully?”

She looked up, lifting one hand to shield her view. A man in jeans and a sweater was crossing the street toward her in confident strides. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. She wasn’t wearing her glasses and couldn’t make out his face at first, but could see he had sandy brown, wavy hair. Who the hell could she possibly know in-

Her eyes flew open wide. Oh my God, it couldn’t be. She stepped forward, cautiously, and about fifteen years hit her like a full force gale. “Adam.”

It wasn’t a question any longer. He was ten feet from her now and she’d know that smile anywhere.

“Is that really you?” he chuckled.

She closed the distance between them. “Oh my God, Adam!” And then his arms were around her and she felt her feet leave the ground as he lifted her gently in a warm and friendly embrace, spinning her halfway around and depositing her back onto the sidewalk.

He stepped away and they both allowed several long moments to take each other in. The years had been good to him, downright wonderful, in fact. His hair, still the color of the sandy beach that they had spent so much time on, was a bit longer now and curled naturally around his ears. A few days growth covered his strong jawline, giving him a more rugged look than she remembered, but of course, he had been eighteen the last time she’d laid eyes on him. Had it really been that long? My God, where had the time gone?

“Lady G, in the flesh! I don’t believe it. You are about the last person I expected to run into on the street,” he laughed.

Her cheeks warmed a little at the reference. No one had called her that in well over a decade. “I don’t believe this. What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I should ask you the same,” he grinned. “I’m pretty sure I know most of the locals by now.”

“You’re kidding, you live here? On the Island?”

He nodded. “Three years now.” His eyes scanned her professional attire. “And…I’m going to guess that you’re not here on vacation.”

“I work for the FBI now.”

“I think I might have heard that.” His eyes were glacier blue, the color of summer afternoons, lying on a blanket and talking for hours. Well, mostly talking. Bare feet, strawberry wine straight out of the bottle, and top forty on the radio.

A random car horn honked in the distance, breaking the spell and she was suddenly aware of Mulder still standing to her right, balancing an array of takeout and an awkward expression. “I’m sorry – this is my um, my partner, Agent Mulder. Mulder, this is Adam Hartman, an old friend.”

Adam offered a smile. “Former navy brat.” He glanced at the tray of drinks. “I’d shake, but it looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

“Oh, Mulder, sorry.” Scully reached to relieve him of the takeout containers, but Mulder shook his head politely.

“It’s okay, I got it. I’ll just um…wait in the car.” His eyes connected with Scully’s for a brief second with an unreadable expression, then he smiled politely at Adam. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same here.”

Scully cleared her throat and shifted her purse strap higher on her shoulder. “So how have you been?” She chuckled nervously. “God, this is weird,” she admitted, arching two brows and shaking her head a little. She felt eighteen all over again.

His smile was casual, warm. He stepped a little closer and sunk a hand into the pocket of his jeans. “I’ve been…I’m okay. How about you? You look amazing, by the way.” His tone was sincere and she relaxed a little, feeling more at ease. She wondered how much of that had to do with Mulder sitting in the car now. She could see him, just sitting there patiently. He had pulled his overcoat off and tossed it into the backseat and was currently wasting no time diving into his sandwich while he waited.

“I’m fine. Um, I live in Georgetown now. I…I work a lot.”  Oh Jesus Christ, Dana, how lame. She didn’t know whether she was more mortified by the fact that she couldn’t think of anything more interesting to say, or because there wasn’t anything. “What about you? Do you work here, on Solomon’s Island? When did you move east?”

He nodded. “About um, eight years ago. I finished a degree in architecture out west and then moved to New York. I relocated here three years ago and run my own business on the Island.”

“An architecture business?”

He smiled. “Um, sort of. I design and build boats now.”

Her eyebrows went up. “You’re kidding. That’s –that’s amazing. Sailboats?” He had always had a strong passion for sailing. The sea was in his blood, just like it was in hers. She had always assumed he’d follow in his father’s footsteps and join the Navy, so she was surprised when he had enrolled at University of Southern California.

“All kinds of boats. But mostly sailboats, yes.”

There was a pregnant pause where she thought of a million and one things to say and said none of them.

“Do you still sail?” he asked.

She huffed out a laugh. “It’s been years. I-I don’t have a boat and I don’t get to the shore very often.”

He nodded, understandingly and shifted his weight.

“Dana-“

“Adam-“ The both spoke at once and then exchanged nervous laughs.

“You first,” he said.

She sighed. “I was just going to say that um, I should probably get going, unfortunately. I’m due somewhere.” She glanced at the car with Mulder still munching away on his sandwich.

“Right. Of course.” Adam’s gaze followed hers to the drab grey sedan with government plates that idled not fifty feet from them. “Listen, um, do you think we could possibly meet for a cup of coffee sometime?”

She smiled. “I’d really like that.” She glanced at her watch. “Actually, if you’re not busy later today, I might have some time in a few hours… or if not-“

“Later today’s fine.” He jumped in. “Do you have a card?”

“I do.” She reached into the inside of her coat. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open, then handed her a blue and white business card. She glanced down at the imprinted logo of a sailboat on the upper corner and his name in raised lettering, then tucked it into her purse.

“I’m not sure how long I’ll be,” she said, almost apologetically.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll be down on the docks all day. Just give me a call.”

She smiled up at him, her eyes locking on his briefly. “Okay. I will.”

She was the first to move, spinning on her heels and walking toward the car that awaited her, being careful not to look back at him watching her leave. With a hand on the handle, she took a deep breath before opening the car door and sinking down into the passenger seat without a glance at Mulder. He waited until she was settled, buckled in, and reaching for her diet soda before speaking.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

He waited another beat before putting the car in gear and pulling out into light traffic. They rode in silence for several minutes.

“Your sandwich is there.” He gestured unnecessarily at the dashboard where the white Styrofoam container teetered.

“Thanks. I’ll eat it at the M.E.’s office.”

He fiddled with the temperature controls, dialing it down into the blue and she didn’t bother saying anything. He was always freezing her out of the car. She was used to it.

He cleared his throat. “So that was weird, huh? Running into someone you know out here?”

“Yes, it was.” Then added, “It was great to see him again.”

“So you knew him from…” Mulder’s voice trailed off. He was waiting for her to fill in the blanks.

“High school. We were, um, good friends.”

He smiled and nodded. “Good friends.”

Her glance carried a warning with it. “Yes. Good friends.”

Mulder tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and then reached for his drink in the cup holder. “Well, it always nice to run into old friends.”

More silence passed and Scully watched small town life pass by through her window. It was actually a cute little town. The streets were lined with mature trees and old homes. Charming, well-kept shops with painted signs beckoned to tourists. People raised families here and knew their neighbors, went to Little League on Saturday mornings and let their kids walk home from school without worrying.

“So how long has it been?”

She wrinkled her forehead and turned her head. “How long….”

“Since you’ve seen, what was his name, Adam?”

“I guess…about fifteen years.”

Mulder nodded casually. “It’s interesting that he knew you had joined the FBI.”

She looked at him.

“The um…the Lady G reference,” he added.

She huffed out a tiny breath and shook her head slightly. “It wasn’t about my job.”

“Okaaay. Can I ask?”

“It’s nothing. It’s um, a silly old nickname.” His smile told her he wasn’t going to drop it, so she sighed in concession. “Lady G stands for Lady Godiva.”

He nodded and smiled. “Well, you do like chocolate.”

“It had nothing to do with chocolate.” She could feel the blush drift over her cheeks like a shadow and she wished she had just gone with the chocolate.

His eyes volleyed back and forth between her and the windshield several times and she was tempted to remind him to keep his eyes on the road so he didn’t kill them. The wheels in his brilliant mind were clearly turning. Oxford education and a genius IQ. There was really no hoping that he’d miss this one.

He finally chuckled. “There are some, um, images running through my brain right now-“

“And they’d probably be accurate,” she finished, without even a glance in his direction. He wasn’t getting the story out of her. He just wasn’t, dammit.

“Right. Um, just so I’m sure I’ve got the right reference, then…” he coughed and then cleared his throat. “If I’m not mistaken, Lady Godiva was um-“

Scully sighed and closed her eyes. “An eleventh century Anglo-Saxon noblewoman who rode a horse naked through the streets of Coventry,” she finished, as nonchalantly as possible.

“Thaaaaat would be the one I was thinking of.” Another nervous laugh escaped Mulder.  “So…you’re going to leave me hanging?”

“It was a long time ago. Kids do crazy things when they’re eighteen.”

Her eyes darted over to observe him swallow.

“You were eighteen then,” he nodded. “And Adam…had, um, heard about this crazy thing. That you did when you were eighteen.”

“No. He didn’t hear about it. Adam was there.”

The car cornered a little hard and her takeout container slid across the dashboard and into her lap. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Scully bit back a smile.

“You’re really not going to tell me the story, are you?” he pressed.

“Like I said, Mulder. It was a really long time ago. I barely even remember it.”

“Well, obviously it made an impression on Adam.”

The car pulled up in front of the morgue, putting an end to the inquisition for now, but Scully had a feeling that wasn’t the last of it by a long shot.

“Well, like I said,” he sighed, putting the car into park, “it’s always nice to run into an old friend. Hopefully it won’t be fifteen years before the next time,” he added, without conviction.

Scully unbuckled her seatbelt and gathered up her lunch and purse. “Oh it won’t be. We’re meeting later this afternoon for a cup of coffee.”

Mulder’s mouth opened and closed twice before he spoke. “Today?”

She nodded, opening the car door.

“You don’t want to go with me to interview Amy Rhodes’ parents?”

“I’m sure you can handle it. I’ll finish up here, meet Adam, and then catch back up with you at the sheriff’s office later.”

“How will you get there?”

“I’m sure somebody here can give me ride back into town. I’ll talk to you later, Mulder. Thanks for the sandwich.”

She shut the door to the car and headed up the steps to the morgue.

 

END PART ONE


	4. Chapter 4

PART TWO

 

Home of Len and Carrie Rhodes

 

Mulder drank coffee that he didn’t want to be polite. A calico cat jumped into his lap and did that weird kneading thing with its paws and he let that happen too. He was informed that it had been Amy’s cat, so he cut the animal a break and let it claw his good suit pants.

Carrie Rhodes excused herself to somewhere for the fourth time in a half hour. Her husband looked apologetic and waited until she was out of the room. “I’m sorry,” the man said, wringing his doughy hands, his voice low and scratchy. “She isn’t coping at all. She hasn’t been out of the house since…” The sentence went unfinished.

Len Rhodes was taller than Mulder and outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds, but he looked small and crumpled sitting with bent shoulders and elbows between his knees. His wife wasn’t more than ten pounds heavier than Scully and about the same height.

Mulder nodded sympathetically. It never got easier – sitting in people’s living rooms and looking at photographs of dead children, husbands, wives, friends. Feeling that ache between his eyes and that pit of nausea in his gut. Three years spent in VICAP profiling, and Mulder was pretty sure he had seen what Hell looked like. It looked like this. Like burying your kid three weeks before their eighteenth birthday and then having to walk by their frayed denim jacket and Nike’s sitting undisturbed in the foyer.

“Did you and your wife get along fine with all of Amy’s friends, Mr. Rhodes? Is there anyone you can think of who might have disliked your daughter for any reason?”

Len Rhodes ran his hands over his face and rubbed his eyes. “You know, they were kids. They weren’t perfect. We knew they drank sometimes, maybe some weed. But she kept her grades up and had a part-time job. Amy never gave us much reason to worry about her.” His voice cracked on the last sentence and Mulder waited a minute before continuing.

“What about Luke Bennett, her boyfriend? What was your impression of Amy’s relationship with him?”

“Amy didn’t talk to me about boys. She might have told Carrie things sometimes, I don’t really know. He seems like a nice enough guy. Plays a lot of basketball. His old man’s a piece of work, I can tell ya that, but it’s not Luke’s fault.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ray Bennett hasn’t been sober a day in thirty years. Don’t think he’s had a job in that long either.”

“Did Amy ever talk about her job at the coffee shop?”

“Sure, sometimes. She liked it there, would’ve taken more hours, but her mother and I felt a couple afternoons a week was enough, especially with her cheerleading practices. Amy did okay in school, you know. But it didn’t come as easy to her as  to some, and we didn’t want her grades suffering.”

“Did Amy ever mention Henry Bishop to you?”

“The kid?”

“Yes.”

Len smiled. “Amy liked him. Called him Picasso and baked him peanut butter cookies a couple of times – those ones with the little fork marks on them. She brought home a drawing that Henry had made for her of Tink once. Man, the kid can draw, that’s for sure.”

“Tink?”

Len tilted his head toward the cat that was curled in a ball on the ottoman. “Tinkerbell.”

“Do you know if Amy kept the drawing?”

“Sure, yeah. It’s tacked onto the bulletin board in her bedroom. It was special to Amy because the kid made it for her a few days after the cat went missing last summer.” Len leaned forward and scratched the top of the cat’s head. “You eventually came home, didn’t ya Tink?” The cat stretched and yawned, extending two furry legs and digging its claws into the ottoman without rousing from slumber. “Yeah, you’re Amy’s cat, aren’t you, Girl?”

Mulder picked up on the use of the present tense, but that wasn’t what caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. “Mr. Rhodes, how long after Henry made the drawing for Amy did Tink show up back at home?”

The man’s forehead wrinkled. “Not long, really. I don’t know, maybe a day?”

“Would it be okay if I took a look around Amy’s room?” Mulder asked.

Len shrugged. “Sure. If you think it’ll help. Top of the stairs, second door on the right. It’s um, closed. She can’t…my wife can’t have the door open. So if you could close it when you’re done-“

Mulder nodded understandingly and placed one hand on the man’s shoulder, then scaled the stairs to Amy’s bedroom.

 

*******

 

His cell phone buzzed as he was closing a drawer on bottles of nail polish and packs of gum and a round button pin that said ‘I’m not as think as you stoned I am.’

“Mulder.”

“Mulder, it’s me.”

“Hey, Scully. Did you find anything in the autopsy results?” Tink jumped up onto the bed and disrupted a pile of stuffed animals before eyeing him suspiciously.

“Well, I didn’t think so at first. As suspected, the cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head, followed by strangulation. There was a small fracture at the base of the skull. Not deep enough to cause death, but enough to render the victim unconscious. Smooth ligature marks indicate that Amy was most likely strangled by some kind of a belt or a sash. The tox screen showed trace amounts of tetrahydrocannabinol.“

“Weed,” said Mulder.

“Your garden variety,” confirmed Scully. “Probably from roughly twenty-four to forty-eight hours before death.”

Mulder’s finger traced the edges of a stack of CD’s from bands he’d never heard of and he felt each and every one of his thirty-seven years.

“But there was something else,” she continued, “and this is where it gets a little weird.”

“Hit me.”

“Amy Rhodes had sexual intercourse fairly close to the time of death. Within a few hours. But the autopsy strongly suggests that it was consensual, not rape. There are no signs of vaginal trauma or excessive force.”

Mulder nodded his head, connecting the dots. “And the boyfriend…”

“Supposedly boarded a bus for a basketball game right after school that day, according to the sheriff’s report,” she finished, because she was the other half of his brain and she did that.

“So….either Amy and Luke somehow managed to fit in a quickie sometime between when the bell rang and when Michael Jordan boarded the bus, or…”

“…she was with someone else,” finished Scully. “She was also on birth control pills, but that’s certainly not unusual.”

“I think I’m done here. I’m going to talk to the waitress who found Henry’s drawing, Nina Rubano, and then head over to the high school and see if I can talk to Luke Bennett. Do you want me to pick you up?”

“Not yet. I’d like to get a look at the body myself first. I’ll call you when I’m finished.”

“Sounds good.”

 

*******

An hour later, Scully snapped off the latex gloves and cleaned herself up before trying Mulder on his cell phone. The call went directly to voice mail. She tried twice more with no success before she gave up and dialed another number.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Adam? This is…Dana. Listen, about that cup of coffee…I was wondering if you could pick me up.”


	5. Chapter 5

Bluewater Tavern

She was trying not to stare. Or blush. Or say something stupid. It was proving to be the biggest challenge of her week thus far. She took another sip of her coffee and couldn’t help wrinkling her nose a little.

Adam laughed. “I warned you. It’s bad.”

“You did warn me,” Dana smiled.

“The Second Cup is where you go for coffee on the island. This is where you go for a beer. And they have killer chicken wings.”

She said a silent “Ah,” and nodded. “I was at the cafe earlier today working, and…I try not to mix business with pleasure,” she explained.

“Well, that can be a little tough in this town, depending on how long you plan to be here.” His eyes twinkled and he leaned forward over the booth, resting his elbows on the table. He had removed his sweater and now wore a cotton button-down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up and she was finding the eight inches of smooth skin from his wrist to his elbow to be ridiculously distracting. She didn’t remember the arms being this nice. The hands, yes. Oh yes, those. But not the arms. He had gotten better looking with age, if that was possible.

She placed her coffee mug into the saucer with a clanky rattle. “So I have to ask how you ended up on Solomon’s Island, building boats. It’s quite the journey from Mission Beach.”

He smiled at her warmly and chuckled. “This from the FBI agent.”

Her brows arched. “Touche.”

“Can I see your badge?”

She tossed him a ‘seriously’ look, but he continued waiting patiently. So without taking her eyes off his, she rooted through her overcoat on the seat bench next to her to produce the folded leather and tossed it across the table at him.

He examined it thoroughly. “Impressive. It’s a good photo of you. Your hair was longer. Not as long as I remember it, though.” He made solid eye contact with her again and she blushed fiercely this time, thankful for the low lighting in the tavern. “I like the length it is now too. It suits you.”

He passed the badge back to her and their thumbs brushed, transferring electric current and warmth and memories. At eighteen, she had felt like she could look into those eyes forever, bottomless blue like a starry night.

“So you didn’t tell me what brought you east,” she said.

His gaze shifted almost unnoticeably and he glanced down. “I, uh, I moved out here with someone. After we both finished grad school, she got a job in New York and so we moved to the Big Apple. I worked in an architectural firm on the upper east side for five years.”

Dana nodded and reached for her coffee cup again, sneaking in a third or fourth surreptitious glance at his left hand.  There wasn’t one. She hadn’t thought so, but Jesus, it shouldn’t matter anyway, right? It was just coffee. “And…then…” she prompted.

He sighed, but met her eyes. “And then…it …ended, and I needed a change, so I moved down here.”

She smiled gently. “To build sailboats.”

“To get away. At first. But then, yes, to figure out what I really wanted to do. I knew I loved working with my hands. The initial plan was to build my own boat and then just…sail.”

Her brows lifted. “You were going to live on the boat.”

“I did for a few months. Then winter hit and it gets cold on a boat in the winter,” he chuckled. “So I bought a house. By then word had gotten around and I had some interest in my work. I started out small, built a few boats by myself over several months. I did it for the love of the craft; I didn’t really need the money at the time.” He noticed her questioning look and smiled almost shyly down at his folded hands. “Architecture pays well in New York.”

“So business took off and you stuck around,” she said.

“Essentially.  A few months turned into a few years. It’s not a bad place to live. I’m near the water, doing something I love to do.” He drew a deep breath and smiled at her. “So what about you, Lady G? How does the smartest navy brat on the pacific shore find her way from Berkley all the way to a promising career in the FBI?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t believe you still call me that,” she said, acting like she didn’t secretly like it a little.

His smile was conspiratorial. “It was a defining moment in my youth.”

“It was a crazy stunt after way too much wine.”

“It was the ballsiest thing I’d ever seen a girl do in my eighteen years.” His head tilted, considering. “Now that you mention it, it ranks near the top for all thirty-five.”

She shook her head again, but her mouth curled. “I’m sure that’s not what Marcus was thinking.”

“Marcus was a fool. He didn’t know what he had.”

Her cheeks colored again. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Do you want to know what I was thinking?”

She was quiet and bit her bottom lip, a thoroughly nervous breath of a laugh escaping her.

“I was thinking ‘Lucky horse,’” he said, in a voice low and gritty like sandpaper and in a tone no man had used on her in a very long time.

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Adam,” she whispered, reproachfully.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay. It’s just…a lot of memories, you know?”

He nodded gently and they let silence bathe them for several moments before he cleared his throat. “So before I reminded you of your youthful transgressions, you were about to tell me how you ended up in the FBI.”

She nodded, thankful for the redirection. “During my first year at Berkley, my father got relocated to the east. So I transferred to University of Maryland. After undergrad, I went on to medical school and finished a degree in pathology. The FBI recruited me right out of med school to teach at Quantico. I did that for a couple of years before being reassigned to the field.”

“Do you like what you do?”

She inhaled deeply. “Most days, yes.”

The next question came as no surprise, however, she found it infinitely less annoying coming from him than from her female friends. Not that she had any of those left anyway. “Are you married? Any kids?”

She shook her head, subconsciously wrapping her right hand around her left, covering the ringless finger that he surely had already noticed. “No, neither. What about you? Did you…ever have any children?”

He drew a deep breath. “No. Uh…it was in the long-term plans, but… there was a problem with the long-term part.” His smile was gentle and a bit sad and Scully nodded. She had an overwhelming urge to reach for one of his hands, but instead she pulled her own into her lap.   

 They gave up on the coffee and ordered ginger ales and talked about old times – who they still got Christmas cards from every year and who they’d lost track of and whether either of them had bothered to attend any of their class reunions. They hadn’t. Adam told her that he had heard through the grapevine that Marcus was an attorney now, practicing in Phoenix. That he had married a teacher and they had a bunch of kids. Dana said, with a genuine smile, that that sounded about right. There were guys from her past that she had wondered “what if” about before, but Marcus wasn’t one of them.

They inquired about one another’s families. Dana told him that her father had passed away four years ago. He told her how sorry he was and she knew he meant it. She considered telling him about Melissa, but decided not to because it was just too much. He asked if Charlie was still a crazy son-of-a-bitch and she confirmed that indeed he was. Adam told her that his parents were still alive and well and had retired to Florida and he tried to get down there a couple of times a year. His sister, Katie, was divorced with two kids and living in Boston with a meteorologist.

The first time Dana glanced at her watch, two hours had passed. “Oh my Gosh, look at the time. I should be getting back to the sheriff’s office. Mulder and I still have some work to do.”

“Mulder is that guy you were with earlier?” asked Adam, stacking several creamers into a pyramid. “He’s your partner?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“How long have you worked together?”

“A little over five years now.”

“A long time. That’s good…that you have someone to watch your back.”

 “Mulder and I have been through a lot together,” she said, averting her eyes and hoping he wouldn’t ask her to elaborate, which he didn’t. Instead he asked her how long she thought she’d be in town.

“It’s hard to say,” she replied honestly. “It’s our first day on a case. It could be just a couple of days or it could stretch into a week or more.”

He nodded and shifted in his seat, leaning forward a little. “Because I was wondering, um,” he huffed out a short laugh. “This sort of thing is harder than I remember and I’m ridiculously out of practice. But I was wondering, would you be interested in having dinner with me tomorrow night?”

Her eyed widened slightly. You would’ve thought she might have anticipated the question after that much of a build-up, but it was entirely possible that she was more out of practice than he was.

He must have mistaken her hesitancy for disinterest because he jumped back in before she could answer. “I apologize, I didn’t even ask if you’re seeing anyone. I understand if it’s not-“

“I’d love to,” she said confidently. “That would be really nice.”

A smile of relief crossed his face. “Great. That’s um, that’s ….” They both traded self-conscious gazes for another moment and then nervous laughs.

“I figure I at least owe you a decent cup of coffee,” he joked.   

Adam gave her a ride to the sheriff’s office. He had to move stacks of blueprints and drafting tools, tape measures and empty water bottles off the passenger seat for her to sit down. “I don’t usually have any company in my work truck,” he smiled apologetically.  When she pulled the visor down to shade the sun, a mess of papers and a pair of sunglasses fell into her lap.

“Sorry. Uh, just shove everything in here.” He reached over her knees and pulled open the glove box, but it too was overflowing.  She glanced at him and smirked, then slid the pair of sunglasses that had landed in her lap onto her face.

“You look good.” He chuckled and bobbed his head playfully, turning the key in the ignition. The CD player spun to life, the bass to a reggae tune reverberating inside the cab of the truck. He reached quickly to lower the volume.    

Dana smiled and turned the music back up, then reached for her seatbelt.


	6. Chapter 6

Calvert County Sheriff’s Office

Mulder stirred too much sugar into his third cup of coffee and tapped his foot underneath the table in a caffeinated frenzy, examining the littering of crime scene photos and investigation notes for the umpteenth time. Then he got up and walked across the interrogation room to a desk with a computer by the window and sat down. Moving the mouse, the monitor sprang to life. Mulder stared at a blinking cursor for a few moments before typing in “Lady Godiva” into the Google search field. He clicked on the first webpage that came up and scanned the first few paragraphs, reading. “According to legend, Lady Godiva took pity on the people who suffered under her husband’s heavy taxation. As a sign of her protest, she stripped naked and rode a horse through the streets of Coventry, clothed only in her long hair. The name ‘Peeping Tom’ as a term for a voyeur originated from later versions of this legend in which a man named Tom had watched her ride and was struck blind or dead.”  Mulder smiled wryly. Lucky for young Adam, this second part of the legend did not, apparently, hold true. A photo on the computer screen showed a stone statue of a bare-chested woman sitting astride a horse, her long hair nearly reaching the bottom swell of her breasts. Mulder shifted in his seat and inhaled, unable to stop himself from imagining a teenaged Scully with long ginger hair draped over rosy, pink-tipped-

The door to the interrogation room swung open with a loud squeak and Mulder’s hand moved with split second precision to close the window on the computer before swiveling around to watch Scully toss her overcoat and purse onto a chair.

“It’s about time,” he said, curtly. “I thought maybe you got lost.”

Her hand went to her hip. “I tried calling you several times earlier. There was no answer, so Adam gave me a ride and we went for coffee.”

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I left my phone in the car by accident. Sorry. How was coffee?”

 “It was fine,” she replied, smiling vaguely.

Fine. Fine was Scully Talk for ‘end of discussion.’

She sat down and tucked her hair before sifting through the stacks of photos and paperwork in a businesslike manner. “How did the interviews with the waitress and the boyfriend go?”

“The waitress doesn’t know anything. She found the drawing and panicked. I don’t think there’s anything more to her story. As for the boyfriend, he had hopped a bus out of town once again for a game by the time I got to the high school. It’s first on the agenda for tomorrow. I did, however, manage to talk to three of Amy Rhodes’ teachers, as well as one girlfriend with multiple body piercings.”

That got him a tight-lipped smile. “And what did you find out?”

“I found out that Amy maintained a B average, sang soprano in the high school chorus, wrote an impressive haiku about starfish, served detention for being habitually late for European history, and has eleven flavors of lip gloss in her locker.”

“So basically, she was a normal teenager.”

“Who maintained a close consumer relationship with Bonne Bell.”

“You weren’t able to dig up more girlfriends?”

Mulder shook his head. “I got there after 3:30. Everyone who wasn’t either in trouble or in sports was gone. Nose ring girl, though, told me that Amy’s best friend was a girl by the name of Maddie Van Leer. She’s another one we’ll talk to tomorrow.”

Scully’s eyes scanned through the file intently. “How many days do you think we’ll be down here?” she asked, casually.

A slightly puzzled wrinkle formed between his brows. “Hard to say. Why, is there somewhere else you need to be?” He hoped his tone didn’t sound as sarcastic as it did in his head.

“No, of course not. I was just wondering if it made sense to get a couple of motel rooms, that’s all.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll know more after tomorrow. It couldn’t hurt to bring along an overnight bag tomorrow when I pick you up, just in case.”

She bit her bottom lip and squinted down at a glossy 8X10 close-up of ligature marks. “Actually, you won’t need to pick me up tomorrow. I’m going to drive my own car down.”

“It’s not necessary, Scully. We’ll probably be doing the interviews together tomorrow.”

“I know. But I’m going to stay late to have dinner with Adam,” she said, without looking up. “So I’ll be driving myself back to Georgetown.”

He looked at her blankly.

“That is, if we don’t end up booking rooms here in Solomon’s Island,” she added, her eyes rising to his.

He searched his brain for a witty response, but most of his brain cells seemed to be MIA, so he settled for “We’d better get on the road if we want to get back to D.C. before dark,” which sounded like something his grandmother would’ve said.

 

*******

 

Scully’s Apartment, Georgetown

Tentative fingertips climbed the inside of her thigh, setting her skin on fire. It was a lighter touch then her own, trembling and hopeful. She bit her lip and whimpered, resisting the urge to cover his hand with her own and thrust it where she needed it to be. Her arousal felt like a river flowing between her thighs and she clenched and unclenched her vaginal muscles repeatedly. She was going to get there by herself without even the stroke of a finger if he didn’t hurry up and do it for her.  She could feel him through his canvas shorts, hard and frantic, pressing against her bare hip, his teeth grazing her earlobe and catching on her stud earrings -  the fake amethyst ones Melissa had given her for her sweet sixteen. God, she was ready. She was so ready for this.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, stroking her cheek with his thumb, his eyes hooded and dark with lust. The color of a storm.

She nodded, her breath coming in swift, heated puffs. The tip of his finger circled her labia and she arched her back, pink budding nipples visible against her fitted tee shirt. He whimpered and tugged the hemline up over her concave stomach to expose two perfect round, white globes.

“I love you, you know that, right?” he said, his voice scratchy and raw.

She stretched to kiss him, whispering her own devotion into his mouth as her fingernails tugged at his shorts until they were off, abandoned somewhere in the tall grass with her panties and bra and Dr. Scholl’s. She couldn’t believe this was really happening.

He pushed into her and she cried out, stiffening from the pain, her eyes locked onto his. He looked terrified. “Stop?” he panted, and she shook her head no. No, no, no, no, don’t stop, don’t stop.

“Just do it,” she pleaded. “Please Adam.” She rotated her hips underneath him and watched his eyes drift shut as he lost all self-control. He was so incredibly hard, he felt like a knife slicing into her, but oh God she had never felt pain this good.

She cried out again and then sat upright in her own bed, her heart hammering in her chest and her hair damp with perspiration. It took her several long moments to realize that something had awoken her. She reached to switch on the bedside lamp and squinted at her alarm clock.  5:50 a.m. Her cell phone walked across the top of her nightstand and she caught it before it kamikazied off the edge.

“Hello.” Her voice was rough with sleep.

“It’s me.”

She rubbed at her eyes, trying to get her bearings. Her bedroom was still dark.

“Scully? Did I wake you?”

“Mmm, yeah. It’s okay. I needed to get up soon anyway. What’s going on?”

“Listen, I’m just calling to tell you to go ahead down to Solomon’s Island this morning without me and I’ll meet you down there. I’m going to give Diana a hand working a lead up here.”

“A lead on the Amy Rhodes case?”

“No, no. It’s a different case. Look, I won’t be long. Just start the interviews at the high school without me and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Mulder, you have all the case file notes with you.”

“You’ll be fine, Scully. It’s not rocket science. You’re familiar with the case; you know what to ask.”

She frowned, feeling her body temperature rise just a little at his condescending tone. “I know I can handle it, Mulder. That isn’t my concern. But you know as well as I do that having the case file notes on-hand leads to more efficient and thorough interrogation.”

“See, Scully, that is exactly why you’re the perfect partner for me. You paid attention in class.”

She clenched her jaw. “What time should I expect you?”

There were muffled voices in the background and the phone receiver scraped against something. “Hang on, Scully.” More shuffling, then his diluted voice saying, “Give me ten more minutes. We’ll grab breakfast on the way.”

“What?” she asked.

“What?”

“You just said ten more minutes until something.”

“No, no, I was just telling Diana I’d be ready in ten.”

“She’s there now?”

“Yeah. Well, no. She just left to pull the car around, but yeah.”

Scully looked at the clock again. 6:02. She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and tried really hard not to wonder why Diana Fowley was at his apartment at six o’clock in the morning. She was past this. Damn.

“Scully?”

“Yeah. I’m here.”

“So are we good? I’ll see you in a few hours?”

She swung her legs onto the carpet and shuffled her way toward a hot shower and the bottle of Advil. “Sure, Mulder. A few hours.”

 

*******


	7. Chapter 7

Cecil B. Weatherell High School, Solomon’s Island, Maryland

 

Scully clicked her pen off and set it down calmly, then reclined back in a mustard colored tweed chair and sighed. Luke Bennett’s cocker spaniel eyes stared back at her across a guidance office table and he sniffed again, wiping his face on his rugby shirt sleeve.

“Luke, given the evidence, I’m sure you understand why I need to ask you this again. For the record, you are saying that you and Amy Rhodes did not, at any time, engage in sexual intercourse?”

Two more sniffs and he ran a shaky hand through his dirty blonde locks. “No! God. I didn’t have sex with her. We did…stuff, but we didn’t do that. She said she wanted to wait, and I didn’t push her. I’m not an asshole.”

Scully nodded and folded her hands in her lap, giving the kid a minute because he looked like he needed one.

“I can’t believe she did that to me,” he said, his voice cracking. “I really liked her.”

“Would you be willing to provide a semen sample, if requested?”

A thoroughly disgusted look settled onto the boy’s face. “You mean, like….in a cup or something?”

“Yes.”

Now he looked like he was in severe pain. “Jesus.  I guess if I have to. I can’t believe I have to talk about this with a –with a lady cop.”

Scully couldn’t either. She glanced at her watch for about the hundredth time since she’d been sitting in the guidance office conducting interviews. It was after 2:00 p.m. Where the hell was Mulder?

“I’m an FBI agent, Luke, but I’m also a medical doctor. And I’m sorry this is awkward, but I assure you that you won’t shock me with anything you say. If you do have to provide a sample, it can be done in the privacy of your own doctor’s office.”

“Do you think it was this other person, the other guy she was seeing, who killed her?”

“We don’t have enough information yet to make that determination, so we have to continue to look into all possible leads. It would really help us if we could find the other person Amy was seeing, Luke. I know this is hard, but do you have any idea at all who it might have been?”

His jaw tightened. “No. But if I find out, you can be sure he’ll be sorry. Can I go now? I’m late for Trigonometry and my coach will take me out of Saturday’s game if I don’t pass my test.”

She gestured toward the door with a tilt of her head and slid a business card across the table toward him. “Go ahead. Please call me if you think of anything at all.”  

After Luke walked out, Scully left the guidance office and swam upstream through a sea of hormonal teenagers to find a restroom. The bathroom had several coats of dark paint on the stalls in an effort to cover the etched profanity. It also boasted drippy faucets, and a vending machine on the wall where she could purchase tampons or maxi pads for a quarter. The faint odor of hastily extinguished cigarettes clung to the dank air. Not much had changed since she was in high school.

If Luke was telling the truth and he and Amy had not had intercourse, then who had she been sleeping with? The fact that she had been on the pill indicated that it was most likely not an isolated incident. Scully concluded that it might be a good idea to subpoena Amy’s medical records to find out when she obtained the prescription for birth control, as it might help pinpoint the time frame when she began seeing her mystery lover. She made a mental note to ask Sheriff Fletcher for the name of a local judge who might double-time the processing of a subpoena. It was a small, tightly woven community and it helped to have connections in law enforcement. Given his congenial personality, and the fact that he was raised on the Island, she suspected the sheriff was just the guy to make her and Mulder’s lives easier.

Speaking of Mulder, she glanced at her watch again in annoyance and stepped out into the hallway to dial his cell phone. She plugged her other ear with her hand and tried to ignore the row of kids in fashionably torn jeans who eyed her from a row of lockers.  In her black fitted pantsuit and heeled boots, she hardly blended in. One girl with stringy blonde hair seemed overly interested and leaned to whisper something to her friend. Scully realized when she followed the girl’s gaze to the waistband of her dress slacks, that she had removed her suit jacket and left it in the conference room. Her weapon was blatantly visible, secured in a belt holster.   Whoops.

Mulder’s phone rang six times before his voice mail recording kicked in. “This is Mulder. Leave a message.”

“Mulder, it’s me. I’ve been at the high school conducting interviews all day. It is now a quarter to three. Were you thinking of showing up to help with the investigation any time soon?” Her eyes closed and she pressed two fingers to her forehead, pausing to temper her tone. “Call me when you get this message.”

Scully returned to the guidance office to conduct her last interview of the day. Maddie Van Leer was already waiting for her, slouching in a chair and peeling blue polish off chewed fingernails. She was a pretty girl with very long, blonde hair that almost reached her lower back. A tiny diamond stud sparkled from the side of her porcelain nose. What was it with high school kids and body piercings these days?  Ahab would have killed her. As it was, he had made her wait until she was thirteen to get her ears pierced. Her hand went to rest at her lower back, self-consciously, where her blouse covered her tattoo.

“I warned her that she was going to get hurt,” a shaky voice said, before Scully had even managed to sit down or introduce herself. “I warned her he’d hurt her and she wouldn’t listen.” A tear trailed down Maddie’s cheek and pooled above her lip.

Scully pushed a box of tissues across the table toward the girl. “Tell me more.”

*******

 

Second Cup Café

 

It was almost four o’clock when Scully pushed through the door to the Second Cup café with fourteen pages of interview notes and an attitude. Still no call from Mulder. She had left two messages and refused to leave a third for fear that she might inadvertently say what was really on her mind and after five years together, why start now?

“Good afternoon, Agent Scully,” Sarah Bishop’s voice rang out from behind the counter.

“Hello, Mrs. Bishop.”

“You need to call me Sarah,” she smiled softly. “Please.”

Scully nodded once politely and ordered a coffee.

“Are you here about the investigation?” the woman asked. “Has there been a break?”

“I’m afraid not yet. But I wondered, could we talk for a few minutes?”

Sarah looked curious and nodded, pulling off her apron and walking around the end of the counter to join Scully at a table. Scully smiled gently as she observed Henry, in his usual spot in the booth across from theirs. “How is he?”

Sarah sighed and regarded her son affectionately. “He’s okay. I don’t know how much he’s aware of with regards to the case. The District Attorney has requested a psychological evaluation of Henry. Do you know how many of those he’s had in his lifetime? I couldn’t begin to count. They think it will tell them something new. That they will somehow manage to understand what’s going on in that beautiful mind of his. I thought that too for the first four or five years of them. But now-“ her pale fingers laced together calmly. “Now I just accept the things I can’t understand.”

Scully nodded, sympathetically and drew a deep breath. “Sarah, besides Luke Bennett, are you aware of anyone else that Amy Rhodes may have been involved with romantically? Did Amy ever confide in you about anyone else? Did you ever notice anyone you didn’t recognize coming into the café to see Amy while she was working?”

The woman shook her head slowly and raised her eyes in surprise. “I’m sorry, no. I really didn’t know Amy’s friends well. None of them came in here very often. Once in awhile she’d get phone calls, but not often. I never noticed anything unusual.”

“In the weeks before Amy was killed, did you notice any change in her demeanor or attitude? Did she seem upset to you?”

Sarah was thoughtfully quiet for a moment before Scully saw the realization of something dawning on the woman’s face. “There was something, but I didn’t think anything of it at the time. There was one day when I had left Henry here with Neil and I had gone to the restaurant supply store in Danville. I missed the start of Amy’s shift that day and when I finally arrived, she was gathering her things together, saying that she needed to go home because she wasn’t feeling well. It was obvious that she’d been crying, but I didn’t pry. Amy’s Dad usually picked her up after her shifts, but she couldn’t reach him by phone, so Neil gave her a ride home. When he got back, I asked him what had happened, and he said that Amy had gotten a phone call from somebody right after her shift started. Whoever it was, the call upset her and she asked to leave for the day.”

“Do you remember which day this happened, Sarah?”

She nodded. “Sure do. It was Thursday, the 27th. I know because Henry had a doctor’s appointment that morning. He always sees his doctor the last Thursday of the month.”   

Scully clicked her pen and made a note of the date, as well as a reminder to request two more subpoenas – one for Amy Rhodes home phone records, the other for the café’s. Just then, her own phone vibrated inside her jacket pocket and she excused herself from the table.

“Scully.”

“Hey Scully, where are you?”

Her grip tightened on the phone. “Where am I? I’m working the case. Where are you, Mulder?”

“I’m on my way. I should be there in a little less than an hour.”

“Did you get my messages?”

“Not until just a little while ago. We were in an area with spotty reception all day.”

We. The word wasn’t lost on her. ‘You’re making this personal.’ His accusation rang in her head, like it had a hundred times since that day weeks ago. Not this, though, she wasn’t making this personal. It was about the case this time and nothing more. About the work that he was neglecting in order to run off chasing leads on a case he was not assigned to.

“Scully?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“I thought I’d lost you there for a minute,” he said, the irony of such a statement missing him entirely.   

“There’s new information to go over on the case,” she said, curtly. “I’ll meet you at the sheriff’s office in an hour.”

“You got it.”

She hung up and went back to the booth where Sarah Bishop sat waiting. “Do you have any other questions for me, Agent Scully?”

Scully’s eyes drifted over toward Henry where he sat, rocking and sketching, his lips forming elusive words, telling a story in a language only he understood. “Yes, actually. Would it be alright if I just sat with Henry for a little while?” she asked innocently. For reasons she could not even begin to understand, Scully felt a profound connection to this boy. Just being near him made her feel calm and serene, and gave her an indescribable sense of clarity.   

Henry’s mother looked at her, and there was no surprise reflected in her eyes at the request, rather understanding seemed to pass between the two women. “Of course,” she said, smiling gently. “Stay as long as you wish. Henry likes you.” 

It took a moment for the comment to completely register with Scully. She wondered what Sarah Bishop could have possibly meant by it, but by then, the woman had returned to work and was busy serving customers.

 

********


	8. Chapter 8

Calvert County Sheriff’s Office

Mulder clicked and unclicked his pen spastically with one hand while turning pages on a legal pad with the other. He did his best to ignore the baby blue daggers drilling into him from across the table. At least he was pretty sure her eyes were trained on him. She could have been staring at his pen. It was the new one Frohike had given him that featured a brunette in a black swimsuit that magically disappeared when the pen was tipped upside down. The swimsuit, not the brunette. He had wondered how long it would take her to notice it and express her disapproval. It wasn’t exactly his taste either. He preferred to be more subtle in his appreciation of the fairer sex, but it was a profound expression of friendship from Frohike, so he accepted it in the spirit it was given.

“There are a lot of notes here, Scully.”

“I did five hours of straight interviews,” she replied, pointedly, pursing her mouth.

Right. “So you believe this Bennett kid’s story? That he and Amy Rhodes were not having sex?”

Her brows raised. “Well, not to go all presidential on you, but I’d say that all depends on your definition of sex. From Luke’s awkward and rather painfully detailed elaboration, I can say that I believe they were not having intercourse.”

Mulder smiled and tilted his head, tauntingly. “Like…”

Scully tucked her chin and tossed him an unamused glare. “Like, do you need me to draw you a picture?”

His smiled widened and he leaned forward on carefully folded hands. “That would be nice. Could you?”

She ignored him and shuffled some papers, extracting a three page document with a billion numbers and symbols that probably made less sense to Mulder than detailed instructions on how to launch the space shuttle. “The blood type of Amy Rhodes’ last sexual partner was A positive, based on the semen sample. We won’t have a comparison sample from Luke Bennett until tomorrow, but I think we should proceed under the assumption that he is telling the truth and begin pursuing other possible leads.”

“Of which we have none,” said Mulder.

“On the contrary.” More shuffling of papers. “My interview with Maddie Van Leer proved to be quite enlightening.”

“The best friend.”

“Yes. Maddie confirmed that Amy had been seeing someone besides Luke, but Amy refused to tell Maddie who it was, claiming that she had to keep it a secret. On two separate occasions, Maddie covered for Amy and said Amy was sleeping over at her house. Amy snuck out and met someone. According to Maddie, he picked Amy up in a black SUV at the end of the street at around midnight both times, and then dropped her back off at Maddie’s house before five o’clock in the morning.”

“Did she get a partial plate or anything? Make or model?”

Scully shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. It was too dark and the vehicle was too far away. Mid-size black SUV is all we have to go on.”

“Needle in a haystack,” Mulder said, scanning the interview notes. “How long had this affair been going on?”

“Unclear. By the sounds of it, at least a month, probably more. Maddie claimed that’s when Amy started acting secretively – leaving parties early, ducking out of movies, that sort of thing. Oh, and Maddie said that our mystery man gave something to Amy. It was a ring with a ruby heart on it. Amy didn’t wear it all the time because of Luke. But she carried in her purse and would put it on before she went to meet this guy. According to the ME, the only jewelry on the body at the time it was discovered was a watch and a pair of earrings. Do you remember seeing anything like it when you searched her room?”

“No, but I wasn’t looking for it. We’ll need to go back. And let’s subpoena Amy’s phone records.”

“Done,” confirmed Scully. “Sheriff Fletcher called in a favor and he will hopefully be able to get us the phone records by…” she glanced at her watch, “seven or eight o’clock. I also requested a list of all high school students, faculty, and staff who drive dark-colored SUVs, although that won’t be ready until tomorrow because the high school office’s technology is stuck in the stone age.”

“You think it could be a teacher?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time a teacher has had an affair with a student. I interviewed the teachers that you missed from the day before, and no one raised any red flags, but that doesn’t mean much.”

“You were quite the Energizer Bunny today, Scully.” There were times when things just sounded much better in his head. This was one of those times. She looked at him like he’d just told her that he regularly fantasized about her gyrating in his lap dressed like Xena Warrior Princess. She’d be wrong, of course. In his fantasy, she was always wearing her straight black skirt with the slit up the back and no panties.

“I was just doing my job, Mulder.”

Right. Every cell in his body told him to just swallow it like a bad pill, but since when did he ever listen to the rational voice in his head? He met her glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She didn’t waiver. “Just what I said. I worked the case. I don’t need your praise for doing my job.”

He was quiet for a moment, but then decided against all better judgment to step in it. “You can go ahead and say what’s on your mind, Scully. You’re annoyed that I spent the day following another lead with Diana.”

Her eyes were steel blue. He braced for it. “Mulder, what you choose to spend your time on, and who you choose to do it with is your business. But when we are working on a case, I expect it to be a partnership. If you’re going to divide your time between two cases, then please don’t expect me to carry your share of the workload on this one.”

They locked eyes for a long minute and Mulder felt vaguely like he was trapped in a staring contest and he had to admit, her attitude was actually pissing him off just a little. But since he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t fuel the fire, he settled for a simple, “Okay.” Her arms unfolded from in front of her chest and her face seemed to soften a little.  

 “Well, how about we head back over to the Rhodes’ house and see if we can have a look around for that ring, then grab some pizza and wait for those phone records to come in,” he suggested.

Scully glanced at her watch casually. “I can’t. I’m meeting Adam for dinner soon.”

He managed to keep the surprise mostly hidden from his face, but compensated for it with a self-conscious chuckle. “Really? So is this what - like an actual date?”

She didn’t acknowledge his question or his incredulous look, but if he wasn’t mistaken, her cheeks pinked up just a touch. “I told you yesterday that I was driving my own car because I had dinner plans. Not that I owe you an explanation. You can hang onto my notes if you’d like. I won’t need them tonight.”

He studied her quietly for a moment, chewing his bottom lip, then leaned forward over the table and began straightening the paperwork in the file. His stomach felt funny, but he figured it was probably because his lunch consisted of two Slim Jims and a Mountain Dew. Probably.

Scully stood and ran her hands over the front of her fitted blazer, smoothing it. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go change my clothes.” He watched her pick up her purse and a small black duffel bag and disappear down the hall toward the restrooms, the diminishing echo of her heels an audible metaphor for so many things he wouldn’t analyze too closely.

Mulder abandoned the files and the stuffy interrogation room long enough to drive half a mile to a convenience store. He bought a bag of sunflower seeds, a large turkey sub, and a roll of antacids. When he got back to the sheriff’s office, Scully was still notably absent. He had passed her parked car out front, so he knew she hadn’t left yet. How long did it take to throw on a change of clothes and what was wrong with what she’d been wearing anyway? He was contemplating calling into the ladies room to make sure she was okay when he saw her.  

He was pretty sure the dress only looked that low-cut because she was still at the end of the hallway.

Swallowing, he forced himself to look down at the case notes. He read and reread the same sentence three times before he looked up again. And straight at the most Scully skin he’d ever seen exposed by her when she was in a conscious, non-life-threatened state.

The dress was black and sleeveless, with a plunging neckline and a hem that landed just above her knees. It made her waist look so tiny that his head hurt. Bare shoulders and cleavage. The kind of cleavage that made the likelihood of a bra underneath, well, very unlikely. The kind of cleavage that shut down brain function and Jesus, he’d never noticed what beautiful clavicles she had. Why hadn’t he ever noticed that before? The legs were bare and the heels were high and Mulder didn’t know this Adam guy at all, but he knew he didn’t deserve this. No way in Hell.

He was staring. He was pretty sure of it. She shifted from one hip to the other and the dress settled over her body in a provocative new way, and so he stared some more. The only remedy to the situation would be to say something thoughtful and intelligent, or at least coherent. She was the most stunning thing he’d ever seen. Should he say that? Probably not. Which also made “Please go to bed with me” quite inappropriate. He’d just tell her she looked nice.

“Won’t you be cold?” he blurted instead, then stepped on his left foot hard with his right and winced.   

 Was that the barest hint of a smile he detected on those plump, little-more-lipstick-than usual lips? “Thanks for your concern, Mulder. I’ll be fine.”

No, you won’t, Scully. Really, I’m quite certain you won’t. You need to put on that big overcoat of yours, button it to the neck and knot that belt extra tight. Then you’ll be fine.   

She walked around to where he was sitting and stood over him, leafing through the file, page by page with one bare, toned, smooth arm. He could smell her perfume, light and musky with just the tiniest floral undertone. Blindfold him in a room full of women and he’d find her, based on her scent alone. He’d often wondered what it was, had even stopped at the perfume counter of a department store once and tried to find it to give her as a Christmas gift, but no luck. He’d given her a Rubik’s cube instead that year. Sometimes he thought about what her perfume would smell like on his clothes, in his hair, on his sheets.

“…school the week before she was killed, but it doesn’t seem relevant.”

“What?” he said, suddenly aware that she was midsentence and he had been caught thinking unpartnerly thoughts. Worse yet, his gaze was nowhere near her face.

She was quiet for a painfully long moment as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair and cleared his throat. The look on her face and the color in her cheeks told him that he was absolutely busted. “I’m sorry, Scully. You were saying…”

Her tone was completely businesslike, as she let it slide. “I was saying that Amy’s attendance records indicate that she was late to school two mornings during the week before she was killed, but I haven’t found any relevance to it. You can read through all the notes and see if you agree.” She reached for the strap on her purse, turning toward the door. “I’ll be reachable on my cell phone if anything important comes-“

“Is this about today, Scully?”

She startled and turned back to regard him. “Is what about today? What are you talking about?”

“This…date,” he made the little quotes in the air with his fingers when he said the word ‘date’ and wrinkled his nose. “Or whatever you want to call it with Mr. Blast From The Past. Are you doing this because you’re pissed off that I left you alone for the day? Is that it?”

Her eyes narrowed and her mouth hung open for a moment before she composed herself. The long pause suggested to him that he was far off and this was another one of those many times he should have just gone with a stupid smile and a nod.  

She walked two steps back toward him and one hand went to her hip. “Not everything is about you, Mulder.” She tugged her purse strap higher on her bare shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then she spun and walked out, leaving him wondering when it was exactly that he had become such an ass.

 

END PART TWO


	9. Chapter 9

PART THREE

 

 

Inland Reef Restaurant

Dana’s face brightened as she saw Adam stand up from a small corner table and waive her over. He was dressed in dark pants, a crisp white button-down shirt, and a jacket, no tie – smartly dressed, but not too formal. She was relieved that she had not overdressed. Uncertain what to wear herself, she had opted for the classic Little Black Dress, but then had second-guessed her choice once she surveyed herself in the mirror of the ladies room earlier. She didn’t recall the dress being quite so revealing, and Mulder’s reaction had certainly caught her off-guard as well. She couldn’t recall the last time he had had such an obviously difficult time keeping his eyes on her face. She hoped she wouldn’t be giving Adam the wrong idea, even though she wasn’t really sure what that was.

“Wow!” Adam’s smile was wide as he pulled her chair out, a gesture no one had made for her in a very long time. “I, um, you-“ he stammered, then they both chuckled a bit nervously. “You’ve rendered me speechless,” he said with a sincerity that made her feel instantly more relaxed. “You look beautiful.” He cupped her elbow politely and leaned to plant a friendly kiss on her cheek.

Their table was intimate and tucked into a back corner of the restaurant. It afforded the perfect view of the water through a large bay window. The lighting was low, a flickering votive candle casting a warm tangerine glow. “I took a chance that you still love seafood,” he said. His hopeful face was beyond adorable.

She smiled. “My favorite.”

A waiter came and Dana ordered a glass of dry chardonnay while Adam asked for a club soda. Their menus lay untouched as they visually took each other in and exchanged slightly self-conscious smiles. My God, he was handsome, even more so now than he’d been at eighteen. His strong features had matured and ripened, and the few tiny laugh lines around his eyes and mouth softened him and added character. His eyes were kind and gentle, just the way she remembered them and it made her feel safe. Sitting across from him like this again was like hearing a favorite song on the radio that you hadn’t heard in years and remembering all the lyrics like it was yesterday.

She huffed out a small laugh and shook her head slowly. “I know we said all this yesterday, but I still can’t get over how strange this is, running into you like this after all these years.”

His smile warmed her. “I know. I’ve thought about you often over the years. Wondered where you were, how you’ve been. My parents still know Ellen’s parents, you know. I thought about contacting her more than once and trying to get in touch with you, but…”  He took a deep breath. “I don’t know, I guess I didn’t want to disrupt your life.”

What there is of it, she thought to herself. What might have happened if he had contacted her years ago? Would her life be different now? So many experiences, so much loss. She couldn’t help but wonder, even though her rationality told her that it didn’t bear thinking about. The past was in the past. All she could do was move forward, something that had been on her mind more and more these past few weeks.

“Well, I’m glad we’re here now,” she said.

The waiter returned with their drinks and Adam raised his glass to her. “Shall we toast to ….let’s see…to  finding old friends?”

She lifted her glass to his in agreement and then drank. The wine coated her stomach and spread a pleasant warmth through her. She regarded his glass of club soda curiously. “You used to like wine, if I remember correctly.” A smile came unsuppressed at the many memories. It had been summer love, night after night, barefoot on the beach listening to him play his guitar, sharing bottles of wine stolen from his parents’ wine cellar.

“Nothing gets by you, does it?” he joked, smiling.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s okay. I uh, went through a period of time when I might have liked it a bit too much,” he admitted.

His honesty touched her and she suppressed the urge to express more affection than was probably appropriate, even given their history. Still, she couldn’t hide her curiosity. “So…you’re in recovery?”

He appeared thoughtful for a moment. “No, not exactly. It’s just a matter of personal choice, I guess. I’ve had a complicated relationship with alcohol in the past, so I just find it best to steer clear of it. It’s, um,” he glanced down, “it’s destroyed things that have mattered to me.”

“Your relationship?” she asked, quietly. For some ridiculous reason, she was finding it extremely difficult not to pry, despite apologizing for it. On the other hand, she got the distinct feeling that he didn’t mind and actually welcomed the chance to talk openly. That’s one thing they had always been able to do back then - talk. He had always been one of the kindest, most honest people she’d ever met. She had the feeling that had not changed.

“Like I said, not much gets past you,” he chuffed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind talking about it, especially with you,” he smiled. “However, I think we should take a moment to look at the menus first because I can see our waiter eyeing us.”

Scully chuckled. “Oh yeah, food. How could I forget, I’m starving.” She opened her menu and sighed contentedly at the selections. The fact that he had remembered how much she loved seafood touched her.

“Can I made a suggestion?”

“I’d love one, because absolutely everything looks delicious. I want one of everything.”

“If you like oysters, this place is famous for them. They’re caught right here in the Bay and delivered fresh twice a day. They’ll literally melt in your mouth.”

She couldn’t help the brow or the subtle smirk as she kept her eyes trained on her menu. “Oysters, huh?”

He suppressed a teasing smile. “They’re a shellfish.”

“I know what they are.”

“If you’d like to try a few different things, they have a sampler plate you might like too. It’s big. You might need help eating it,” he challenged.

“I think you’d be surprised at what I can eat.”

“If memory serves, I don’t think I’d be surprised at anything you can do.”

 She felt the color creep into her cheeks. “What are you getting?”

“Oysters,” he said, solidly. Then with a grin, “I’ll share.”

“I want my own,” she replied, closing her menu with finality as the waiter reappeared to take their orders.

“Two orders of the oysters, please,” Adam said. He eyed her empty glass. “And another glass of wine?”

She shook her head. “Water with lemon, please.” The waiter nodded and walked away.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said with a conciliatory tilt of the head. “Not drink, I mean. I’m fine with it.”

“It’s just as well. I have an hour drive home.”

He sighed and lifted a basket of fresh bread to her. “So you want to know about Kim.”

She startled a bit at his bluntness. “Only if you want to tell me.”

He shrugged and drew a long breath. “We met in grad school. She hit my car backing out of the library parking lot.”

Dana chuckled quietly and nodded, encouraging his story.

“We argued about whose fault it was for a half hour, then exchanged insurance information and went out for lunch. Two months after that, we moved in together.”

“She was an architecture student?”

“Law student. Could argue the paint off the walls.”

She smiled in understanding.

“After graduation, she took a job at a firm in New York and I followed her. There were plenty of opportunities in the City and I found a job within a few weeks at an architectural firm in Manhattan. Spent the next five years drafting plans for shopping malls and high rise apartments.”

“How long were you together?”

“Seven years.”

She drew a deep breath. “And how long since-“

“Three years this April.”

“You…never married?”

He shook his head. “No. We didn’t. Much to the disappointment of my Catholic mother.”

Dana smiled sympathetically. ‘Find a nice Catholic boy and settle down’ had pretty much vanished from her own mother’s vocabulary the summer before med school when she rented an apartment with her decidedly Protestant college boyfriend.

“Looking back on it, I should have seen the signs earlier,” he said. “But it was grad school. People studied hard and partied hard. Then we moved to New York and we were always being invited to social events for her firm or mine. It was just the lifestyle. And when we weren’t out, we drank at home. But there was always a good reason, you know. A drink to take the edge off a long day, a drink before dinner, a couple of glasses with dinner, a night cap before bed. I drank right along with her. It wasn’t something we even thought about much.

And then, one night we were at a Christmas party and of course, we’d both had a bit too much. We usually took a cab to everything, but this time we had driven her car. So the valet brought the car around and the keys were already in the ignition. I drove us all the way back to our apartment, by the grace of God, without incident.” He arched his brows and Dana returned the expression, appreciating  his candor. “In the morning when we went to the parking garage to find the car, it wasn’t there. In its place was a black BMW. The valet had accidentally brought us the wrong car the night before and we had driven it all the way home without even noticing. Kim didn’t even drive a BMW. She had a Saab.”

Dana’s eyes were wide. “What happened?”

“Luckily, nothing. The car belonged to one of Kim’s colleagues and the entire incident was laughed off and became storytelling lore for parties to come. But that was it for me, just knowing all the possibilities of what could have happened. I couldn’t do it anymore; I didn’t want to live that way. We talked about it and I stopped drinking entirely because that’s what I really felt I needed to do. Kim promised to cut way back and she did. For a few months, but then eventually it started again with a few glasses here and there. Pretty soon I was finding empty bottles stuffed into the bottom of the garbage bags, wrapped in paper, or shoved to the back of the kitchen cupboards, hidden behind things. So we’d talk again and she’d promise again and I’d ask her to get help and she’d say she didn’t need it. And we’d have a few good months and then the cycle would start all over again. Finally, I told her she needed to choose -  me or the alcohol. So…she chose.”

Adam shifted in his chair and drew a deep breath. “And after she left, I couldn’t stay in New York anymore, so I came down here and began…rebuilding.”

Dana nodded slowly. “Thank you for confiding in me. You didn’t need to.”

He shrugged. “We used to be able to talk about anything and everything. I figured we still could and I can see now that I wasn’t wrong.”

She smiled and took a drink of her water.

Their meals arrived and they were both thankful for the shift in atmosphere. The plates of steaming fresh oysters smelled wonderful and her stomach growled. She hadn’t realized just how famished she was. “This looks amazing, Adam.”

“It is. But there’s a rule,” he smiled.

She folded her napkin into her lap and arched her brows at him, questioningly. “I’m afraid to ask.”

He took a small amount of sauce from one of the bowls the waiter had placed on the center of the table and applied it to an oyster. “You have to slurp them. Eating oysters is serious work. It’s not pretty.”

A playful and obstinate frown decorated her forehead. “Whose rule is that?”

“Mine,” he replied confidently, lifting a half shell to his mouth, perched between his thumb and forefinger and proceeding to make a rather loud and umseemly slurping sound as the oyster disappeared. “Mmm, delicious,” he said. “Now you.”

He watched as she imitated him, first the sauce, then holding the shell to her lips and sucking the oyster down. It tasted wonderful, succulent and tasty and she licked her lips to capture every last drop of lemon juice before giving him a ‘how’s that’ glance.

“Not bad for a first, but you really have to slurp it. Trust me it tastes better that way. Don’t be delicate about it.” He consumed another, demonstrating, complete with a soundtrack. Dana giggled and looked around self-consciously. It was the middle of the week and the restaurant was nearly empty. A young couple sat all the way across the room and well out of earshot. But an elderly couple occupied a table close to theirs and they were now watching this amusing culinary spectacle.

The older gentleman smiled at Scully and called over, “He’s right, you know, young lady. There is an art to eating oysters properly. Don’t be shy.”

Dana smiled and shook her head slowly, feeling completely ridiculous, but enjoying the jovial atmosphere just the same. She grasped a second oyster between her fingers and raised it to her lips, then closed her eyes and sucked in for all she was worth. She followed up with a raise of her hands, as if to say “ta da.”

The elderly gentleman called out “Bravo!” and his wife clapped her hands twice in delight.  Adam grinned widely at her.

“Now that’s the Lady G I remember,” he said, nodding his head slowly with a twinkle in his eye.

She swallowed and dabbed at her mouth with a cloth napkin, before reaching for another oyster. They continued making their way through their plates, slurping enthusiastically and laughing until Dana was wiping tears from the corner of her eyes from the sheer liberating silliness of it all.

 

*******


	10. Chapter 10

Calvert County Sheriff’s Office

Ten digit numbers swam in front of Mulder’s eyes like drunken tadpoles. He slid his glasses from the bridge of his nose, pressed two fingers to his forehead and yawned. He was on page seven out of the twelve pages that represented the Rhodes family phone history for the month prior to Amy’s death. On the legal pad to his right, he jotted down numbers that appeared multiple times, especially after school when Amy might have had the house to herself.

The door to the interrogation room opened slowly and Sheriff Davis Fletcher popped his head inside. “You look like you could use some caffeine.”

Mulder answered with a look of quiet desperation.

“Scotch?” countered Fletcher.

“Now you’re talking.”

Fletcher laughed. “I’ll see about getting that in the vending machines next month. In the meantime, how about a Coke?”

Mulder sighed and reached into his pants pocket for change. “Diet would be great.”

Fletcher waived a hand dismissively. “Don’t bother with the change. Just hit the button hard twice and then give the machine a solid shake. I think the same machine has been here since the early seventies.”

Mulder stretched and then followed the sheriff down the hallway. “Do you know how many people die from vending machines falling on them every year?” he asked.

Fletcher snorted loudly and smiled as he hit a button twice and then jostled the machine with his shoulder. A red and white can dropped. “You do know a lot of weird stuff, don’t you?”

“So I’ve been told.”

Fletcher tossed the can to Mulder, who caught it in one palm and then popped the lid. “Thanks.”

“How’s it going?”” asked Fletcher, taking a long draw from a root beer. “Anything in the phone records?”

“Maybe. What can you tell me about the Van Leer girl?” asked Mulder.

“Maddie? Not much really. She seems to stay out of trouble, as far as I can tell. She comes from a very wealthy family. Her father owns a land development company. I think she knows more than she’s saying, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Mulder nodded. “I think you’re right. She admitted to Agent Scully that Amy had been seeing someone besides Luke Bennett.”

“Well, if anyone would have known that, it would be Maddie. She and Amy were thicker than thieves. Always together.”

Mulder paused, thoughtfully, and took a long swallow of his drink, then cleared his throat. “Sheriff, do you know a guy by the name of Adam Hartman, by any chance?”

“Sure, I know Adam. You don’t think he had anything to do with this, do you?” Fletcher asked, incredulously.

Mulder shook his head. “No, no. There’s no connection. My partner and I have just been getting to know some of the local folks and we ran into him today outside the coffee shop. Seemed like a nice guy.”

The sheriff nodded. “He’s only been living on the island for a few years, but he’s developed quite a business for himself here.”

“What kind of business would that be?”

“Boats. Builds them by hand. Sailboats mostly, but others too. In the beginning, he did all the work himself, but business has been so good that he’s hired a couple of guys to work for him now.  Some of the best craftsmanship I’ve ever seen. Rumor has it he’s got orders coming in from all over the area now, from several counties away even.”

Mulder downed his Diet Coke and tried to act casual. “Huh. Married? Divorced?”

David Fletcher eyes him curiously and smiled. “Uh, no…lives alone, as far as I know.” He chuckled, “Although I can think of a handful of young ladies who wouldn’t mind changing that, if given the chance. Adam gets his share of interest, that’s for sure.”

Mulder offered a conspiratorial laugh and tipped his head. “Makes the rounds, does he?”

“Actually, not so much. Adam keeps to himself mostly. Nice guy, I just get the impression that he moved down here looking for a simpler life. Folks often do.”

A loud static punctuated the air and a woman’s voice erupted from the radio clipped to the sheriff’s hip. “Sheriff, are you still in the building?”

Davis Fletcher reached for the radio and raised it to his mouth, pressing a button. “I’m here, Vera, what have ya got?”

“I’ve got Nikki on line one saying that you are officially late for your class. You better get going, Sheriff.”

The sheriff chuckled. “Thanks, Vera. Tell her I’m on my way.” He released the button on his radio and tucked it back onto his belt holster. “Lamaze class. It’s our first -  a girl,” he smiled.

“Congratulations,” offered Mulder.

“If you need any help chasing down those phone numbers tomorrow morning, let me know. I’ll be here bright and early.”

“Same. Good night, Sheriff.”

*******

 

Boardwalk outside the Inland Reef Restaurant

“It’s beautiful here. I can see why you stayed,” said Dana, breathing in the salty sea air as they strolled along the boardwalk. Restaurants and bars, mostly quiet during the midweek, lined one side, private docks and piers with boats sloshing in the waves bordered the other. It was a mild night, but the breeze off the water lifted her hair from her bare shoulders, causing her to shudder slightly.

Adam removed his jacket and draped it around her, his warm hands brushing against her skin and causing her to draw a deep breath. It was both a friendly and an intimate gesture at the same time. She smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

“So you haven’t told me, but I’m assuming you’re here working the Rhodes case.”

“Yes.”

“It’s really hit this community hard. I’ve only been down here a few years, but nothing even close to this has happened that I’m aware of. People have started locking their doors, kids aren’t walking to school anymore. It’s strange because living in New York, you sort of become desensitized to life’s atrocities, sad as that sounds. Then you come to a place like Solomon’s Island and you see first-hand how a tragedy like this can knock an entire community on its side.”

“Did you know her? Amy?”

“Not personally, no. I mean, she’s waited on me in the coffee shop before and I know her boyfriend, but that’s about it.”

“How do you know Luke Bennett?”

“He worked for me for a few months, painting and staining boats. I hire some of the high school kids for the summers. He’s a good kid, quiet, hard worker. Just out of curiosity, though, why is the FBI involved? People have been talking and wondering. Wouldn’t a case like this just go to the local authorities?”

“There are some aspects of the case that don’t fit the scope of a standard murder investigation, therefore, the Bureau was called in to help.”

“Do you have any suspects yet?”

She pressed her lips together and offered an apologetic tilt of the head.

“Riiight. You can’t talk about it.”

“No, not really. Sorry.” It was so weird, she noted to herself. Being with someone like this and having to be careful not to discuss the details of her work. She knew it was a constant challenge for agents who were married or partnered with civilians; it had just been many years since she’d been in a similar position. Since Ethan, and let’s face it, he was always much more interested in discussing his own work than probing her for information on hers.

Dana looked up at Adam, curiously. “Did you ever have the opportunity to observe Luke interacting with Amy?”

He shook his head. “Not really, no. She never came down to the docks, which I thought was a little strange, but I don’t think they had been dating long then.” He smiled and arched a brow. “Am I being interviewed, Agent Scully?”

She considered for a moment and struggled to keep her straight face. “Maybe.”

“Because I might need to see the ID again, then. Maybe even the weapon.”

She smirked. “Are you saying you aren’t willing to cooperate with this investigation, Mr. Hartman?”

A quick bark of a laugh came from him. “I think I can safely guarantee you that if you showed up at my door in official FBI capacity, wearing that dress, that I’d tell you anything you wanted to know.”

Color flushed into her cheeks and she glanced down to avoid meeting his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t to – “

“It’s okay.”

“I haven’t been on a date in a very long time. I’m more than a little out-of-practice,” he admitted.

“Well, that makes two of us.”

They walked on in silence for a few moments.

Dana felt the barest brush of warmth against her fingers and she didn’t have to look down to know that his hand was right there. Seconds later, her hand was tucked into his and she wasn’t entirely sure how it they got that way, but she liked it.

“Adam, at dinner, you shared something personal with me, and I…would like to do the same.”

He slowed their pace and looked at her, his face attentive and compassionate.

She drew a deep breath. “When we were talking about our families over coffee yesterday, it didn’t seem like the right time, but…. Not long after my father passed away, Melissa was killed. It happened in my apartment and…it was related to a case I was working on at the time. It was…awful.”

His eyes widened in shock. “Dana, I-I had no idea. I’m so sorry. I never heard anything-“

She nodded quickly, started to tear up, and then looked away. The last thing she had intended was to get all emotional after they hadn’t seen each other in so long. They had been having such a wonderful evening.

He stopped walking and reached for her, drawing her close in a tight, comforting embrace. “I can’t imagine how terrible it must’ve been for you… for your whole family. I wish I’d known.”

She pulled back and sniffed, looking up at him. His eyes brimmed with his own emotion.

“Thank you,” she said. “It means a lot. I know you remember Melissa. I just thought you should know.”

He nodded, his hand smoothing her hair. “Of course I remember her. I’m glad you told me. I just wish I could have been there for you when it happened. God, your father, then your sister – it hasn’t exactly been easy-going, has it.”

She shook her head, swiping under her eyes and forcing the ‘it’s okay’ smile that she did so well. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put a damper on the evening. We can talk about something else.”

A tiny wrinkle formed between his brows as his thumb moved to tentatively caress her cheek. “Or…we can talk about this. For as long as you want or need to.”    

She took a cleansing breath and squeezed his hand. “Let’s walk. It’s a beautiful night.”

He smiled gently as his gaze wandered her face. “It is.”

They neared the end of the strip of restaurants and bars and kept strolling. The boardwalk extended for several hundred more feet and then ended where sand began. A string of small, white clapboard houses lined the beach, all of them dark. She suspected they were seasonal cottages and the occupants had migrated back up north to busy city lives.

They slowed their pace, and she sensed that neither of them wanted to reach the end of the walk where there was nowhere else to go, but back, inevitably to separate cars. It was serene, the only lights coming from the last tiny restaurant, paces behind them, and the only sound coming off the water in gentle waves. A cement barrier wall separated them from the beachfront and she walked toward it, looking out over the inky blackness that was the bay.

“Where is your work?” she asked.

He stretched an arm toward the horizon, off in the direction where they had come from. “Way down there. Past the beginning of the boardwalk, there’s an access road that goes down by the far end of the beach. Do you see all those lights at the bend?”

She stretched up on tip toes and scanned the darkness, shaking her head.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling her close and wrapping one arm around her. She took a deep breath of his aftershave and forced her attention to follow his line of sight.  “Over there. Where there’s a string of red lights together, then a stretch of nothing, then some white lights. Do you see it?”

She did now and nodded. “Yes, I see it.”

“The red lights are the marina. I’m right past that, at the end of the access road. Those white lights are a series of four docks in a row.”

“Are they yours?”

“Yes.”

“Is that where you…build the boats?”

“No. We build them out of the water. You can’t see it in the dark, but there’s an old airplane hangar near the docks. I bought it and refurbished it and we build the boats inside. You should come by sometime and I’ll show you around.”

“I’d like that,” she said, her voice breathy as she turned toward him slightly. His arm was still around her shoulder and when she finally summoned the courage to open her eyes and look, she was staring right into the open V of his dress shirt. And then his finger was beneath her chin, gently tilting her lips to meet his. It was just a brush, soft and tentative, and she was pretty sure she had shared the exact same kiss with him many years ago - back before alien viruses and government conspiracies and things that bled green instead of red. My God, could it ever really be this simple again?

They separated reluctantly and the warmth lingered. Her lids fluttered open to focus on his gaze and she smiled. Being with him like this felt like going home.

“Hi,” she said, completely unnecessarily and then allowed a tiny laugh to escape.

“Hi. Was that okay?” he asked, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. She was nearly undone by the tenderness of it and nodded.

“Can I do it again?”

Another nod, without hesitation, her lips parting as she caught her breath.

The second kiss was solid and more confident and he pressed a palm to her lower back to steady her, which was good because her head spun with the wind. One of her hands went to the side of his face and the other grasped his elbow and squeezed. She relaxed into the kiss and parted her lips the tiniest bit, but he remained a gentleman about it, which was just as well. She had an hour-long drive ahead of her and if he kissed her much longer or deeper, she couldn’t be counted on to make responsible decisions for herself.        

They parted mutually and she was absolutely certain her galloping heartbeat could be heard above the drumming of the surf. The walk back to their cars was comfortable and mostly quiet, both of them stealing glances and trading smiles while their hands remained clasped.

There were several cars parked along the street in front of the Inland Reef restaurant, hers among them. Dana didn’t see Adam’s truck. “Where are you parked? I can drive you to your truck?”

He pulled a set of keys from his pocket, pressed the key fob, and a silver, late model Toyota sedan parked two cars ahead of hers lit up and chirped. She looked at him and he shrugged sheepishly. “Couldn’t take the chance that you might ride with me again. You saw my truck.” She was oddly touched that he’d given it that much thought. Not that she hadn’t already realized this was an honest-to-goodness date, but that solidified it right there.

“I liked your truck.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They reached her car and she unlocked the door and tossed her clutch onto the passenger seat before spinning to face him. He was on the curb and she was on the street and that made him altogether way too tall, so she stepped up. She had always hated this part. What to say besides good night.

He saved her. “I had the best time I’ve had since…” he tilted his head, considering.

“That’s a long time,” she smiled.

“Yes. It is,” he agreed, chuckling.

“Thank you for dinner.”

“I couldn’t let you go through life not knowing how to properly slurp oysters.”

“I do feel different,” she said in mock seriousness.

“You should.”

“It’s the new and improved me.”

His eyes sobered a little. “I don’t know about improved. I don’t see how that would be possible.”

She gave a self-deprecating click of the tongue and looked down to where his finger barely brushed the back of her hand.

“I’d like to see you again,” he said quietly, hooking his pinky finger with hers almost playfully.

“Okay.” She hadn’t realized how much she was hoping he’d say that until he did.

“I’ll call you.”

“Okay.” She really had to work on some more intelligent responses for next time. The sea air and the kinetic warmth of his hand teasing hers and her overall proximity to his chest was doing a number on her verbal finesse.

Before she was finished overthinking, he leaned in to kiss her again. This time it was short and sweet, a proper goodnight kiss and she let her eyes linger shut a few seconds as if suspended, enjoying the hum and tingle of her lips. “Drive safely,” he said as she started the engine and closed her car door. When she pulled away, he was still standing on the curb with his hands in his pockets, watching her go.

She was more than halfway to Georgetown when she realized she was still wearing his jacket.

 

*******


	11. Chapter 11

Dana Scully’s Apartment

Propping her book face down on the nightstand, she turned off the light and settled onto her back, staring into the darkness and impatiently waiting for sleep to show up. Not typically prone to insomnia, when it did hit her, she was at a loss to cope and typically resorted to pouting or reading bad fiction, but even that wasn’t doing the trick tonight. Her thoughts turned to the possibility of a bedtime snack and she was mentally cataloging the contents of her refrigerator when the ringing of the phone startled her. She turned the light back on and reached for the cordless phone.

“Hello.”

“So is it too soon to call?”

Smiling wide, she switched the phone to the other hand and propped the pillows, scooching back down into the warmth. “Mmm, let’s see…two and a half hours after the date ended? Peeeerhaps.”

“See, I was going to go for the cavalier approach and say I was just calling to make sure you got home alright.”

“But that’s not why you’re calling?”

“Well, it is, of course, but I also wanted to hear your voice again.” She bit her bottom lip and felt her stomach tumble.

“Plus, I think you stole my coat.”

“You noticed that,” she conceded.

“I guess that means you have to come by and drop it off tomorrow.” She could hear his smile through the phone.

“I suppose I could fit it in.”

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said.

“No. Can’t sleep. I was just contemplating late night TV.”

“Same. Try channel twenty-nine and tell me if it rings a bell.”

She thumbed past a weather report, a show on ant colonies, and someone trying to sell her exercise equipment. And when she reached her destination, her brows lifted along with the edges of her mouth. It was Risky Business, one of the few movies they had seen together. “Were we even old enough to see this back then?” she asked.

“Barely. I think I corrupted you.”

“Well, yes. But I don’t think it was the movie.” It was out of her mouth before she had given it a thought and she slammed her eyes shut for a brief moment.

“Oh really,” he said, teasingly. “I don’t think it was me who disrobed to prove a point.”

“It was just my top.”

“It was just enough.”

She watched the small TV screen, bathed in nostalgia, as Tom Cruise slid across a waxed floor in his socks to Old Time Rock and Roll. “You had those sunglasses,” she said.

“I did.”

“All you needed was the Porsche and you would have had girls falling at your feet.”

“I only wanted one,” he said and she smiled, fully remembering the weightlessness and promise of young love. In some ways, it seemed like just yesterday.

“And thus began a secret conspiracy among DJs to play this song at every wedding reception until the end of time,” he chuckled.

“Are they still doing that? I thought it had been replaced by the Macarena and the Electric Slide.” She used to receive several wedding invitations annually from college and med school friends, but had attended almost none of them. In the last few years, there had been a notable shift toward baby announcements. Not-so-silent reminders that while other lives progressed in a predictably linear fashion, hers remained forever in a holding pattern, circling like an aircraft awaiting landing instructions. She had begun to wonder if she’d crash land before getting them.

“The song was alive and well at my cousin Dewey’s wedding reception last summer, along with the soundtrack to Grease and pretty much anything by Wham or Kool and The Gang,” he said.

“You have a cousin named Dewey? Is there a Huey and a Louie too?” she asked, yawning.

“Nope. But there’s a Pritchard and a Mortimer. And I have an uncle on my mom’s side whose name is Schroeder.”

“Is he a pianist?” she giggled.

“An accountant.”

“Who in your family is naming these poor people? You were very, very lucky.”

“Don’t I know it,” he agreed. “If I had been born a girl, my name would have been Phyllis, after my great-grandmother.”

“Really?” She clicked her tongue. “I wouldn’t have gone out with you then.”

“I should hope not.” He laughed. “You have a big family. Don’t you have any unfortunate Mildreds or Hermans floating about?”

She sighed, thinking. “Not really. I have an Aunt Olive, but that’s not that strange. And my dad’s nickname growing up was Dutch.”

“Yours was Starbuck.”

She caught a breath.

“You’re surprised I remember that, aren’t you?”

She smiled a bit sadly. “Yeah, I am. What made you think of that?”

“Because I remember one night, being out on the back porch of your house with you well past midnight when we thought everyone was asleep. And suddenly this window flew open on the second floor of the house and a voice bellowed, ‘Starbuck! You have exactly two minutes to disentangle yourself and get in the house. And young man, you should do well to note in the future that a proper goodbye will take place on a well-lit porch before curfew.”

She barked out a genuine laugh. “I don’t remember that! Did he really say ‘disentangle?’”

“He did.”

“Were we….tangled?”

“We were. Very much so.”

“Oh God.” She smiled at the thought, wishing so much that she could recall the moment and file it safely in her treasured cache of Ahab’s greatest hits.

“The infamous Scully men. I don’t know if I was more afraid of your father or your brothers,” he admitted.

“My father. By then, Bill was weary from years of trying to defend Melissa’s honor,” she chuckled, “and I had enough dirt on Charlie to purchase immunity from any sin.”

She heard rustling over the line and the slide of a receiver dropping. “Hang on a sec.” More shuffling, then the sound of his muffled voice. “Come on, Mose, you need to stay off the bed or you’re sleeping in the laundry room.” The phone clunked loudly and she pulled it away from her ear briefly with a curious frown. “Okay, I’m back. Sorry.”

“Everything okay there?” she asked.

“Yeah. Moses prefers my bed to his. Boundary negotiation is an ongoing process. No, you don’t…..come on, Moses, we talked about this. Don’t look at me that way.”

“Moses?”

“My dog. Although roommate might be a better definition. The kind who eats everything in sight and doesn’t clean up after himself or pay rent.”

A faint whining sound followed by a single bark brought a smile to her face. “What kind of dog?”

“A Newfoundland.”

She tried to picture one in her mind. “Big dog?”

“You might say that. He’s kind of a cross between a wooly mammoth and Snuffleupagus, but with teddy bear-ish qualities.”

She chuckled. “Aww, he sounds awesome.”

“If you come by the docks tomorrow, he’ll be there. He pretty much runs the place. He’d like to meet you.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to stop by. I wouldn’t want to disappoint Moses.”

“Please don’t. He doesn’t handle it well and I’m the one who will have to look at the long face.”

She yawned and made a sleepy humming sound, turning off the TV. “I guess I’d better get some rest then so I can make a good first impression.”

“You think you can sleep now?”

Another yawn. “I think so,” she said. “What about you?”

“Eventually. Sleep and I don’t always see eye to eye.”

She arched two brows, contemplating the irony. What was it with guys who didn’t sleep? “You’re not lying on your couch, are you?”

“No, I’m in bed. Why?”

“Nothing. Just checking.” She smiled. “Good night.”

“Sweet dreams, Lady G.”

Her eyelids were heavy as she switched off the bedside lamp and settled down into her pillow with a satisfied sigh. Not more than a minute passed before her phone trilled again. She reached in the dark for it, tipping a bottle of lotion off the nightstand with a thud.

A breathy chuckle escaped her as she hit the talk button. “You’re not going to let me get any sleep, are you?”

Silence for several seconds. Then, “Scully?”

“Mulder?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Hi, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing, I just…I wondered what time to pick you up in the morning?”

“Did you find anything in the phone records?”

“We have a list of numbers to follow up on. I thought we should get an early start,” he said.

“Um, eight?”

“Seven?” he countered.

“Mulder, it’s 1:30 a.m.”

“I wasn’t the one keeping you up late.”

She closed her eyes and felt the tension build. Her search for a rebuttal returned void. “I’ll be ready at 7:30. Good night, Mulder.”

He managed a brooding farewell and then hung up. She resisted the urge to overanalyze his petulant attitude and why it should bother her so much. The truth was she had grown weary of second-guessing him, of wondering where they stood, of who she was to him. And they didn’t talk about these things, they never had. She had always thought that she knew him better than anyone, but lately she wasn’t certain of anything much beyond how he took his coffee.  

 

END PART THREE


	12. Chapter 12

PART FOUR

Second Cup Cafe

 

Scully sipped from a straw and reached across the table to pilfer his fries. “You know, you could order some,” he suggested through a mouthful of steak sandwich. She ignored him. Her plate of cobb salad had been decimated and all that remained were a couple sad pieces of lettuce she had mysteriously deemed inedible. This was her M.O. – order rabbit food for herself and then pirate the good stuff off his plate. Apparently, the calories didn’t count if she didn’t order them. He couldn’t help noticing how her tailored suits hugged her petite curves lately. She was the fittest she’d been since he’d known her. She could afford to eat some real food once in a while, but he kept his mouth shut. He was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to tell your FBI partner that her ass looked good in a pair of dress slacks.    

She licked the tips of her fingers and he paused, mid-chew. Why did she have to do that? She did it every time she ate with him. Had she done that when she was out to dinner with Adam last night? While wearing that dress? Forget it, he didn’t want to know.

His mind wandered back to their awkward late phone call the night before. He had expected he would wake her up when he dialed her number, but he did it all the same, like he always did. That’s just how it worked. She went to bed early and he called late. He’d apologize for waking her, she’d sigh and say it was okay, and then they’d spend an hour on the phone talking about astral projection, or the best ever Saturday Night Live skits, or if Skinner’s string of new suits and ties meant he was seeing someone.

Last night he had not woken her up. Clearly, he had been late to the party.   

“That 730 number had to be the one, Mulder. It had to be the guy Amy was seeing. It showed up repeatedly on both of the dates Maddie identified, and an hour before Amy was killed. It was him.”

He nodded, thinking. “It’s a dead end, though. The phone company confirmed that it’s basically a disposable phone that uses prepaid minutes. Whoever it is, they covered their tracks. Aside from locating the actual phone, there’s no way to trace it.”

Her sobering eyes locked onto his. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“It’s not another kid.”

Her face confirmed that their thoughts were synced like they always were about these things. “It can’t be. This took too much forethought. It was an adult, Mulder. Amy was seeing an older man.”

“And I’d be willing to bet my porn collection that he was a married one.”

Scully nodded. “But unfortunately, even if we find this guy, nothing so far ties him to Amy’s murder.”

“Nor does it clear Henry Bishop.” Mulder looked around the diner at the tables full of people eating their lunch. The booth in the corner where Henry had been sketching the other day had three middle-aged women seated at it. “Speaking of, I wonder where he is today.”

Just then, Neil Bishop made his way over to their booth with a friendly smile, removing his apron. “Agents, good to see you again. One of the waitresses mentioned you were here. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to stop over sooner. Lunchtime rush,” he said, apologetically, shaking hands with Mulder first, then Scully.

“Listen,” he continued, “I’ve been meaning to call you. I know it’s only been a couple of days, but this case…it’s all Sarah and I can think about. What it might mean for Henry.” He slid a chair over from a nearby table and sat down. “I’m not sure if we’re jumping the gun,” he lowered his voice, “but we’ve hired an attorney. You know, just in case. We’re scared to death.”

Mulder tried to offer a reassuring smile, but in all honestly, he hadn’t much reassurance for the man. “It can’t hurt to have legal counsel,” he said.

“Is there any new information?” Neil asked, nervously. “Any breaks in the case?”

“We’re investigating every possible lead,” replied Scully, sympathetically. “We’ll let you know as soon as there is any new information that we can share.”

“Is there anything Sarah or I can do to help?”

 “Mr. Bishop,” Scully started.

“Neil.”

“Neil,” she corrected. “Your wife mentioned that the week before Amy died, you gave her a ride home from work one day. I was told that Amy received a phone call that upset her. Can you tell us what you remember from that day?”

He nodded quickly, appearing relieved to have something to contribute. “It was the strangest thing. She had just started her shift when she got a call. I told her to take it in the back office, so I didn’t pay much attention. But when she hung up, she was visibly upset and said she wasn’t feeling well. She told me she couldn’t reach her Dad for a ride, so I offered to take her home.”

“Did she say anything at all during the ride to her house?” asked Scully.

Neil shook his head. “Not much. She was pretty quiet, just said she didn’t feel well. I dropped her off in front of her house and came back to the diner.”

Mulder nodded, thoughtfully. “We were just noticing that Henry isn’t here today.”

Neil smiled. “Sarah took him to the park for a picnic lunch. She likes to do that when the weather is nice. Henry enjoys the outdoors. They should be back soon, if you’d like to stick around.”

“Thank you,” Scully said gathering her purse and overcoat, “but we won’t be able to stay today.”

“Sarah will be sorry she missed you,” said Neil.

“If you think of anything else at all,” said Mulder-

“We’ll call,” finished Neil with a sad smile.

They left the diner and crossed the street to their vehicle. “Mulder, the only call to the diner close to when Amy started her shift that day came from her father’s work number.”

“I know.”

“Why would Amy get a call from her father, then tell Neil Bishop that she couldn’t reach her father and needed a ride home?”

“I don’t know. But I think it’s a question for Len Rhodes. And while we’re at it, I think a search of Amy’s bedroom for the infamous heart-shaped ring might be in order.”

Scully buckled herself into the passenger seat. “But first, we need to make a quick stop somewhere.”

Mulder eyed her curiously.

“Head south,” she instructed casually, “down by the waterfront.”

 

*******

 

 Mulder steered the dark government fleet sedan down a bumpy access road and parked in front of a line of several wide wooden docks, each with sailboats moored at them. A scruffy looking older man with a weathered complexion was busy polishing the finish on the bow of a boat and paused to watch them get out of their car. “Help you?” he called out in a gravelly voice.

“Hi,” Scully’s greeting was almost lost in the sound of gulls and water lapping. “Is Adam here?”

The man nodded toward an enormous building off to their left. “In the hangar last I checked. You can go on in.”

She turned back briefly toward Mulder. “Do you want to wait in the car or come in? I just need to return his jacket.”

“His jacket,” echoed Mulder, spitting a sunflower shell onto the dirt with a bit more force than necessary.

“Yes. I borrowed it last night.” Her eyes didn’t retreat. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

He stuck his hands in his pockets and chewed his bottom lip, considering his options. Willingly observe his partner’s interactions with a man he was beginning to suspect quite possibly had carnal knowledge of her at one time, or sit in the car and miss out on giving the guy dirty looks. Neither choice appealed.

“It’s hot in the car.” He got out, eyeing the black jacket as she reached for it. He had thought it looked a little big for her, but hadn’t given it much thought when she tossed it in the back of the car that morning. It probably smelled like her now. He shut the car door too hard. “I’ll just walk around.”

The front of the hangar was wide open and he could see a young man with a ponytail painting black letters on the side of a boat. It read VADE MECUM. Thanks to three years of Latin in high school, Mulder knew the phrase translated to “Go with me.” Interesting name for a boat, he thought passingly.

Without warning, something huge, black, and wet charged from the building and straight for Mulder. He backed up a few steps. Typically when unidentified creatures rushed toward him at breakneck speed, it didn’t end well. It took him a moment to realize that the planet-sized thing was barking and wagging spastically.

“Moses!” a voice called from inside the hangar. “Moses, come here boy!” Adam strolled out of the building and into the sunlight, smiling amiably. He had on worn jeans and a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a mechanical pencil tucked behind his ear. “Don’t worry, he’s friendly, but you might want to back up a little. He just went for a swim and he’s still a little-“

The panting, wiggling mass of fur stopped about three feet from Mulder and shook with a vengeance, spraying droplets of water onto his dress pants and shoes.

“-wet.”

A shriek of amusement erupted from Scully as she bent to the dog’s level and began scratching exuberantly under the dog’s massive head.

“Hey man, sorry about that,” Adam said to Mulder with two hands raised, palms up. “Can I get you a towel or something?”

Mulder forced a tight smile. It was the same one he reserved for his dentist and the lady at the Department of Motor Vehicles. “Don’t worry about it.”

Scully was still crouched, cooing and fawning over the brontosaurus-sized, salivating monstrosity. She was making those high pitched sounds that all women made around babies, furry critters, and shoe sales. He could forget receiving any sympathy from her for neither his discomfort nor his imminent dry cleaning bill.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, the second Mr. LL Bean approached Scully, she arose and flashed him one of her full-wattage smiles and said in a syrupy voice, “Hey you.”

What the hell was that? Mulder could count on two hands the number of times in five years that he’d been on the receiving end of that smile from her. And this yo-yo gets one for having a bad shave, James Dean eyes, and a slobbering mutt? Not to mention, “Hey you?” It had been more years than he cared to admit, but he was pretty sure the last time a woman had said that to him in the same tone of voice, he’d gotten some. He made two fists with his hands and dug his nails into his palms until it hurt. “I’ll be by the water,” he grumbled and plodded off. Neither of them noticed.

He had moved out of earshot, which wasn’t difficult given the thrum of the surf. But he could still see them clearly and against his better judgment, he watched while pretending he wasn’t. James Dean had a hand cupping her elbow and was leaning in to listen to her. Her chin was dipped and her eyes peered up from under heavy lashes as she spoke. Mulder would have traded his right arm to have been able to read lips right about then. He imagined it was something like, “I’ve had a nice time, Adam, but I’m sorry, rugged and handsome just isn’t my type. I’m not interested in seeing you again. Have a nice life.” Her intimate posture and the foggy look in her baby blues suggested that perhaps he was slightly off on the translation.

Adam said something to her in reply and it must have been the funniest thing in the history of conversation because Scully erupted with an unguarded, carefree laugh that made Mulder’s stomach knot. She took another step closer to him and tucked her hair. Goddammit. She was flirting. How did it get to this? Mulder was standing there watching Scully flirt with another man. If she licked her lips, he’d know for sure that-

GODDAMMIT.

It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion and not being able to do a bloody thing about it. He couldn’t watch it anymore, so he turned and walked down closer to the water, pacing and brooding on the wide planks of the weather beaten dock.

Did she really want this guy? Or was she doing it for some other reason – to punish him or to get attention. As soon as the thought entered his brain, he mentally berated himself. She had already told him that not everything was about him, and she was right. He had been arrogant and self-indulgent to have assumed all these years that he was the center of her universe when, God knows, lately he hadn’t been treating her like the center of his. And the question begged to be answered once again: when did he become such an ass?

Truthfully, it pained him to admit that this guy Adam didn’t actually seem half-bad, what little he knew about him anyway. Scully had known him once upon a time and had obviously cared for him. What if this guy could make her happy? He wanted that for her and lately, she seemed anything but.  Why then, did the prospect of her finding happiness with someone else leave him feeling hollow? The very least he could do for Scully, after all they’d been through together, was to be happy for her. She deserved that from him.

Her voice cut through his maudlin thoughts and he startled. She was standing at the edge of the dock now, beckoning him. “Are you ready to go, Mulder?” Wisps of cinnamon hair billowed around her face in a crazed dance and tangled in her lip gloss. She shielded her eyes with one hand, looking into the sun to see him. The other hand held the front of her jacket closed.

He sighed and started back toward her. “Yeah, Scully. I’m ready.”

Passing by the hangar again, he glanced in at the boat with the Latin phrase on it again. VADE MECUM. It did mean “Go With Me.” But it occurred to him that it also had another translation. It meant “Constant Companion.”  He swallowed as he watched Scully’s tiny, suited form walking several paces ahead of him toward the car.  

 

*******


	13. Chapter 13

The visit to Len Rhodes’ house turned up very little. Amy’s father confirmed that he had called his daughter that day in the diner when Neil Bishop had given Amy a ride home, but had denied that their conversation had upset Amy in any way. In fact, Len claimed that his call with Amy lasted only a couple of minutes and consisted of a brief discussion of their dinner plans. He said that Amy was fine when she hung up and never asked him for a ride home that day. The phone records could not disprove Len Rhodes’ story.

A second search of Amy’s bedroom failed to turn up the heart shaped ring.

“This isn’t working, Mulder,” Scully said, tossing her pen down on top of files and pushing her chair back from the table.

He blinked absently at her.

“We’re getting nowhere with this investigation. Every lead is a dead end,” she added with a frustrated huff.

“We need to visit the jewelers in the area tomorrow and ask about the ring. See if anyone remembers selling it and if they kept a record,” he offered without taking his eyes off the crime scene photos that he’d been going over for days.

“Even if we find out who she was having an affair with, it doesn’t necessarily mean that he was the killer,” argued Scully. “What if-what if it really was Len Rhodes?” She gesticulated with her hands, pacing in her thick heels and thinking aloud. “He finds out his daughter is having an affair with an older man, they argue about it, emotions escalate….”

Mulder shook his head slowly. “I don’t see it. You met this guy, Scully. You really think he could have strangled his own daughter?”

“Stranger things have happened.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m not getting that from him.”  

Scully sighed and nodded, conceding the point. “So we’re back to trying to figure out who the secret Casanova was.”

Sheriff Davis Fletcher poked his head in the door with a tentative smile, then immediately frowned upon seeing their long faces. “Batting zero, huh?”

Mulder sighed. “I’m not even sure we’ve been up to bat yet. We’ve got nothing to work with here. Nobody saw anything, nobody knows anything.”

Fletcher pulled up a chair. “Well, do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“The bad,” said Scully.

“The good,” said Mulder, at the same time.

The sheriff chuckled. “Ladies first. The bad news is that the semen sample came back on the Bennett kid. He’s not a match. Amy was not with her boyfriend prior to her death.”

“Not entirely surprising. Tell us the good news,” said Mulder.

“I’ve got a motel manager out on Route 9 who says he rented a room to a girl Amy’s age who was wearing a Varsity cheerleading jacket, and an older man, two Saturdays before she died.”

Scully’s eyes brightened. “Amy had a jacket like that.”

Mulder stood up quickly and started for the door. “Let’s go.”

 

*******

 

Sea View Motor Inn

They stood outside the motel in the darkening twilight, looking from one to another expectantly. Scully crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the car. “Well that was productive.”

“What kind of motel doesn’t at least take down the license plate numbers of its patrons?” asked Mulder in frustration, thrusting his hands into his pockets and starting to pace.

Sheriff Fletcher sighed. “It's mostly tourist clientele along this route. They don’t get too many loiterers and parkers, I suppose.”

“Light brown hair, medium build, medium height, no glasses, no visible tattoos or distinguishing features of any kind, no accent,” Scully said, her voice rose as she parroted the description the motel clerk gave them. “He ought to be easy to find,” she finished, sarcastically.

“Well, the way I see it,” said Fletcher, “if Amy Rhodes and her guy checked into this motel, there’s at least a chance they might have also patronized some of the other twenty or so roadside establishments along this route at some point. I’ll have my guys start canvasing. With any luck, maybe another motel kept license plate records.”

 “Eli Harrington is the name he used to register. Paid cash,” said Mulder, scratching his chin in thought.

“It’s gotta be an alias,” Fletcher said, pointing out the obvious.

Mulder nodded slowly. “It is.” His eyes darted back and forth, puzzling it out.

“The name could still have significance,” clarified Scully. “Killers often use anagrams or derivatives of their own name or other names that carry some sort of meaning for them.”

“I’ll run it and see what we get,” shrugged Fletcher, glancing at his watch. “In the meantime, this might sound crazy, but can I interest you two in a prime rib dinner with all the fixings? My brother and sister-in-law were supposed to join us for dinner, but my nephew came down with the flu. We’ve got a kitchen full of food that’s going to go to waste.” He chuckled. “Nikki’s eating for two, but this might be pushing it.”

Mulder tossed a questioning glance Scully’s way and she shrugged. Why the hell not? It beat any number of dives Mulder might subject her to on the drive between Solomon’s Island and D.C. They followed the Sheriff’s cruiser back into the village, to an exceedingly normal two-story colonial on a quiet, tree lined street. Scully stepped from the car onto a narrow blacktop driveway with a two car garage and a basketball hoop. There were potted geraniums on the porch and a welcome mat in front of the door. A grey cat wove through her legs and mewed loudly. So ordinary, she thought to herself. She could get used to ordinary for a change.

*******

 

Davis and Nikki Fletcher’s house

 

Scully swiped a pinky finger underneath her eye, trying to keep her mascara from running any more, although she had just about given up. Her stomach hurt from laughing and her cheeks were damp.

Nikki Fletcher swept the air with a fork perched between two fingers and her mouth partially full. “So you sank the boat? Like totally…gone?”

“Yup. Did a Titanic right there,” said Mulder.

Scully nodded enthusiastically, still laughing.

 “And then you swam to this rock and just sat there freezing your asses off for what….like hours?” Nikki giggled loudly.

“Most of the night,” confirmed Mulder, trying to keep a straight face and answering for Scully who was laughing too hard to contribute to the conversation at the moment.

“But as it turned out, you were actually in knee deep water…”

“About a hundred yards from shore,” Scully finally managed, her voice higher than normal.

Nikki snorted and held her hand over her burgeoning stomach. “That’s just…classic. Did you get in trouble for the boat?”

Mulder look at Scully. “I can’t remember, did we?”

She spun a hand through the air lazily in a ‘who the hell knows’ gesture. “After awhile, it’s hard to remember what we’ve gotten reprimanded for and what we haven’t. I think the Bureau ate the security deposit on the boat.”

“Your tax dollars at work,” chuckled Davis Fletcher.

Scully smiled nostalgically and sipped from her coffee. “To this day, I think Mulder still believes it was Big Blue instead of that damn alligator.”

“The results of the investigation were ultimately inconclusive,” Mulder said in mock seriousness.

“Mulder, those were urban legends perpetuated by a community whose livelihood depended on the tourism that resulted from the myth. It was no more real than the series of deaths that you claimed were caused by an infestation of cockroaches.”

“Not your run-of-the-mill cockroaches, Scully. Those were cockroaches that had genetically mutated into lethal killers. You weren’t there to see it.”

“Are you sure they weren’t just after your lunch, Mulder?”

“You laugh all you want, Scully. They were no ordinary bugs.”

“Nothing is ordinary to you, Mulder. If I had a dime for every time we’ve had this conversation…”

“Go ahead and pretend you don’t like it,” he teased. “If you didn’t argue with me, you wouldn’t know what to do with me.”

“I still don’t know what to do with you.”

“I think you wake up every morning and ask yourself, ‘Which of Mulder’s theories can I blast full of holes today?’”

She smiled in amusement. “I have a running list of them on my bedside table.”

Scully looked up to see Nikki Fletcher smiling at them in quiet observation, her eyes volleying between Mulder and her. “How long have you guys been partners?”

Scully cleared her throat. Her cheeks felt warm. “Over five years.”

“Well, it sounds like you keep each other on your toes,” said Nikki. Her hand went to cover her husband’s. “Davis works alone too much. I worry about him. It’s better to have someone who’s got your back.”

“You’ve got my back, Babe,” Davis said, squeezing his wife’s hand affectionately.

“You know what I mean.” She took a deep breath. “Can I interest anyone in dessert? Homemade cheesecake,” she smiled, pushing back from the table and standing with effort.

Nikki Fletcher was of average build with long, straight mahogany hair and warm brown eyes. She had a smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose and a wry sense of humor. Despite being heavily pregnant, she carried gracefully, wearing a cream colored turtleneck under an olive suede jumper. Her welcoming nature, sincere smile, and infectious laugh immediately drew Scully in. It was easy to see why Davis Fletcher obviously adored his wife.

“I’ll help you,” offered Scully, stacking several plates and following Nikki out of the dining room. The kitchen was small, but cheerful with a large picture window that looked out over a spacious, lush yard. The little grey kitty followed them, making her presence known by jumping onto the counter top, only to be swished back down again. Nikki made a clicking sound at the cat, who looked up at her and mewed in protest. “Lucille, you’re shamelessly spoiled. We’ll just see how you take to having to share the attention around here pretty soon.”

“When are you due?” asked Scully.

“Five weeks,” she puffed out her cheeks and exhaled a long breath. “And it can’t come soon enough. My feet are starting to swell like balloons. Davis has to tie my shoes now and I can just forget about shaving my legs,” she chuckled.

Scully smiled sympathetically. “You must be getting excited.”

Nikki took dessert plates down from a cupboard and pulled a knife from a wooden block. “Oh, I am, of course. I like to complain, but the truth is, I can’t wait. I’m the oldest of four in my family and my parents have been talking about becoming grandparents for as long as I can remember. Davis and I had barely cut our wedding cake before my mom was asking when she’d be hearing some good news. Do you have any children?”

Scully startled for a moment and accidentally dropped a fork onto the floor. “No,” she replied quietly with a polite smile, “I don’t.”

“Well, maybe someday. It sounds like, from our dinner conversation, that you’ll have plenty of good stories to tell when the time comes – OUCH!” Nikki let the knife in her hand rattle onto the counter and Scully saw red pooling at the juncture of the woman’s thumb and palm. “Damn! I’m such a klutz sometimes.”

Scully instinctively grabbed a dish towel and reached for Nikki’s hand, holding the cloth tightly against the wound. “Do you have a first aid kit around?”

“Around the corner in the bathroom cupboard.”

Scully led the woman to sit at the table and then retrieved the kit. “Here, let me take a look. I’m a doctor.” Unwrapping the towel, Scully could see that the wound appeared long, but shallow. “I don’t think stitches will be necessary. But you’ll need it dressed.” She dabbed at the gash with antiseptic and then began wrapping it in gauze.

“It’s nothing. I’ve been accident prone my whole life. You don’t need to bother, really. I’m sure a couple of Band-aids should do it.”

Scully smiled. “I don’t mind, trust me.  I don’t find many opportunities to utilize my physician’s skills, unless I’m patching up Mulder after one of his ill-conceived escapades.”

“You two seem close,” said Nikki, relaxing her hand and letting Scully minister to her.

“We’ve been through a lot together. It happens with work partners,” Scully said, dismissively.

“Mmmm. I can imagine.”

Scully glanced up to see a playful challenge in Nikki’s brown eyes, and then back down quickly.

“That’s it then…,” prompted Nikki, tentatively.

Scully arched two eyebrows at her and felt color begin to flood her cheeks.

“I guess I was getting a vibe that maybe you two were…you know…”

“Mulder and me? No,” she chuffed. “Just partners and friends.”

“Sorry, I’m doing it again,” she chuckled. “Davis is always teasing me about being nosy. I don’t mean any harm by it, I just like people.”

“It’s okay.” Scully finished taping her hand and smiled warmly at her. “That should do it. Keep it covered for a week and change the dressing once a day. If it’s painful or there’s excess drainage, see your doctor.”

“Thank you very much.”

“You’re more than welcome. Now how about that cheesecake that looks just about more sinful than anything I’ve eaten in months,” Scully laughed. They gathered up forks and plates full of cake heaped with fresh strawberries and carried them into the dining room.

 

*******

 

 The hum of the highway lulled her and she sighed, settling back into her seat and reflecting on the evening. It was rare for them to do much socializing when they were working a case, except with each other. And that lately, was rarer still.  

There was a well-concealed side of him that she’d catch a glimpse of now and then. It was tender and  compassionate and made her feel things she shouldn’t. It would show up when she least expected it and suck the breath right out of her.

When Nikki Fletcher had answered the door and welcomed them in with a smile, palms resting on her swollen stomach, so full of life, Scully had felt Mulder’s hand immediately fall to her lower back in a gesture of emotional solidarity and reassurance. There had been a fleeting moment when she had glanced at him and he had mouthed “Are you okay?” with a look that told her all it would take was for her to say the word and they’d be out of there. Sometimes she struggled against his protectiveness like a fly caught in a web.  Other times she let it cradle her. Tonight it had been nice, reminiscent of simpler times between them.

“Are you asleep?” his voice reached through the dark interior of the vehicle and hauled her back.

“No, why? Do you want me to drive?”

“I’m fine. You were just quiet. What’re you thinking about?”

She drew a deep breath and answered indirectly. “I ate too much.”

His smile was visible in the glow of the dashboard lights. “It’s about time. You can afford it.”

She averted her eyes to look out the passenger window at a void of black punctuated by mile markers and wondered when he had decided to notice her figure. “They’re nice people,” she said, redirecting.

“Very,” he agreed.

“Of course after the stories we told at the dinner table, they probably think we’re crazy now.”

“And this suddenly concerns you because…” he chuckled, letting his words hang in the air for a moment. “Scully, you surrendered your sanity card five years ago when you took up with me. Guilt by association.”

“It does have its perks,” she pondered aloud. “We don’t have to make idle chit chat at the Bureau holiday party because everyone is afraid of us.”

“We are an island unto ourselves.”

“We’re the guy on the subway who talks to himself and swats at invisible insects,” she giggled.

“The Boo Radley of the FBI.”

She shook her head, smiling in the dark. “Normal is overrated.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been.”

She punched the knob on the car stereo and scanned through the preset buttons before settling on something modern that she’d heard a hundred times, but didn’t know the name of. Red Hot Chili Peppers or Crash Test Dummies or Stone Temple Pilots. He arched two brows at her and she returned a smirk. She never got to pick the music in the car. He always dialed it to sports radio or NPR or classic rock and she never argued, mostly because she didn’t much care. He started tapping two fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel. What – did he think all she listened to was classical music because that was what sat dust-free and alphabetized on her bookshelves? There might be a lot of things about her he didn’t know. There might be.

A road sign told her they were still forty miles from home. She settled into the bucket seat and kicked off her shoes, flexing her stockinged toes into the carpet.

He cleared his throat. “So Scully,” he began, “since it’s been an evening of storytelling, what’s it going to take to get the Lady Godiva story out of you?”

She sighed and rolled her head against the seat to regard him with a patient smile. “Mulder. It was nothing, really.”

“If it was nothing, then what’s the harm in telling it?”

“It was so long ago I barely remember.”

“Scully, you don’t forget anything, including all the crappy Christmas gifts I’ve given you over the years.”

Another sigh from her, a hint of exasperation creeping in.

“Well?”

“Fine. Whatever. It’s a silly story, but if you must know-“

“I must.” She could hear the self-satisfaction in his tone, the same one she always heard when he had successfully talked her into something. When Mulder got something like this under his skin, he was like a Rottweiler with a bone. There was no way he’d drop it until she indulged him.

“Okay, you remember me telling you about my senior year boyfriend, Marcus, right?” He returned a vaguely blank look. Oh right, that was Eddie Van Blundht. “Well, Marcus and I had been dating almost a year and it was about a month before graduation. We were invited, along with a group of friends, over to Adam Hartman’s house for a party one weekend when his parents were out-of-town.”

Mulder tossed her a conspiratorial smile and nodded casually, telling her that he approved of this behavior. “Cool. Was it like Sixteen Candles? Weekend at Bernie’s? Animal House?”

“Something like that. I didn’t know Adam that well, but he was friends with some other kids Marcus and I hung around with, so we went. And-“

“Did you know he was into you before you went to the party? Adam?”

“He wasn’t. We hardly knew each other. Anyway-“

“Were there like kegs everywhere? Rooms full of sweaty, dancing drunk people? Pink Floyd on the stereo? Empty beer cans littering the front lawn?”

She sighed loudly. “Probably. Are you going to let me tell the story or not?”

“Sorry. Just tell me how drunk you got first?” He looked genuinely inspired by the thought.

“Obscenely. I sang karaoke on top of a table and woke up the next day wearing nothing but a tiara and some glitter.”

“Really?” His head jerked and the car drifted.

She laughed loudly. “No. Watch the road, Mulder.” Her hand went to the steering wheel to steady it until he composed himself.

“I don’t remember exactly how much I drank,” she admitted. “I was a good girl, though.” She smirked teasingly at him.

“How good?” He toggled two brows at her.

She tilted her head enigmatically. “Not that good.”

He drew a deep breath and his hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Tell the story.”

“Where was I?”

“Respectably inebriated at Adam’s party. No parents.”

“Right.  So the party was in full swing and a handful of us decided to go outside and get some air. It was Adam and this girl, Holly, that he was sort of but not really dating, a guy named Steve and his girlfriend, Erin, Marcus and me.”

“You remember names? That’s pretty good for not remembering the story, Scully.”

“Mulder.”

“Shutting up again.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re outside. So is this where the horse comes in?”

“Yes. Adam’s sister, Katie, rode competitively. They had stables and a couple of horses on the property. Anyway, the group of us settled around a fire pit in the back yard and Adam built a fire. We passed around a bottle of wine. It got warm by the fire and I took off my denim jacket. All I had on under it was a tank top.”

The corner of Mulder’s mouth twitched and one eyebrow took a hike. “I think I have a movie at home with a scene like this in it. Three guys, three girls, rapidly disappearing clothing…”

Scully clicked her tongue. “Mulder, is sex all you ever think about?”

“I’m going to take the fifth on that, Scully. Continue with your story, please. Pretty please.”

She smiled and drew a breath. “So Marcus looked at me sitting there in my tank top and shorts and said…now you have to understand that Marcus came from a very traditional, patriarchal family. His father made the decisions and his mother went along with them, no questions asked. So Marcus looked at me and said, ‘Dana, you need to go put some clothes on.’”

Mulder arched an amused and incredulous brow at her.

“I think Marcus just assumed that I would obey him the way his mother obeyed his father.”

“Silly boy,” Mulder said, clicking his tongue. “He obviously didn’t know the Scully women very well.”

She chuckled in agreement. “Well as it turned out, I was quite comfortable in what I was wearing, so I chose to ignore his order and proceeded to drink more wine. The next thing I knew, he had his hand on my upper arm and was looking me sternly in the eye and said, ‘Maybe you didn’t hear me earlier, Dana. I asked you nicely to go put something on. If you’re going to wear that top, you may as well wear nothing at all.’ Well as you might suspect, that was entirely the wrong thing to say to me.”

Scully could see Mulder swallow and tighten his grip on the steering wheel while keeping his eyes trained on the dark highway ahead. Clearly, he was anticipating where the story was headed.

Now that she was telling it, she began to recall more of the details, like how angry and humiliated she had felt. “This wasn’t the first time I’d caught a whiff of the fact that Marcus and I might have had differing views of what a relationship should look like. The way he spoke to me at Adam’s party was just the final straw.”

 “Pretty sure I already know the answer to this, but I’ll ask anyway. What did you do?”

“Well, what I wanted to do was slap him in front of his friends and tell him where he could shove his possessive attitude. But instead, I quietly excused myself. I went into the stables and stripped off my tank top and bra. If Marcus thought that I might as well wear nothing at all on top, then that’s what I’d do.  Oh God….” She put a hand to her forehead for a moment, remembering the sheer audacity of her eighteen-year-old self. “Thinking back, I don’t believe I did that. In my own defense, there was a lot of wine involved and I was really pissed off.”

Mulder was completely silent, enraptured in her story and desperately, silently urging her to continue. She smiled and took a deep breath. “I had planned to just walk back out there half-clothed to make my point, but at the last minute, I decided to go for a more dramatic effect. So…I mounted one of the horses and paraded out in front of Marcus and the rest of the group in just a pair of shorts and a smug smile. Well, my hair was a lot longer then. It mostly covered my…you know.” She could feel her cheeks blazing now.

Another hard swallow from Mulder. Yeah, he knew. After a silent minute, he managed to croak, “What did Marcus do?”

“At first, nothing. He was too stunned, as were the others. But then somebody started clapping and soon there were a few hoots and hollers – God, I don’t believe I did that, this is truly embarrassing, Mulder. Why did I let you convince me to tell you this story?”

“I’ll tell you something embarrassing in exchange.”

“You will?” She eyed him, doubtfully.

“Absolutely. But first, finish the story.”

“That’s it, really. Marcus called me a few very derogatory names, Steve and Adam convinced him to leave the party, and that was the end of Marcus and me.”

“And the beginning of you and Adam?”

“Not officially. But we did talk into the early hours of the morning and he gave me a ride.”

“I’ll bet he did.”

“Mulder!”

“Sorry.”

“He drove me home. We talked on the phone a few times in the following weeks, then he asked me out the night after graduation.”

“And Marcus didn’t want to kick Adam’s ass?”

She tossed him an ‘Oh please’ look. “Marcus started dating Ally Templar the week after we broke up. According to the rumor mill, he was in her pants before graduation.”

“Go Marcus,” Mulder said, flatly.      

“Well, it was further than he ever got with me, not for lack of trying.”

Mulder’s head swiveled. “Really? You and Marcus never…”

She shook her head, not meeting his eyes. “No. I didn’t love Marcus. Silly as it may sound, I was pretty idealistic at eighteen. I wanted to be in love when I…” her voice went soft and she turned toward the window.  “For my first time.”

He hesitated before he spoke, but she could feel him watching her thoughtfully, eyes volleying between her profile and the dark highway. “I don’t think it’s silly at all.”

They rode in silence for several long miles, except for the drone of the radio. She knew he’d ask. It was the next logical question. And she’d tell him the truth. She always did.

“So then Adam and you…the two of you…he was… ”

Her voice was hushed, thoughtful. “My first.” She settled her head back against the seat rest and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. She felt that there was more he wanted to know, but he didn’t ask and she was grateful.

 

*******

The phone was ringing when she bolted into her apartment, dropping her purse and navigating the room in the dark. Her knee bumped the edge of the coffee table. “Shit!” That would turn black and blue for sure.

“Hello!” she said, more briskly than usual.

“Hi, it’s, um, Adam. Is this a bad time?”

She flopped down into a chair, still wearing her overcoat. A smile edged at the corners of her tired mouth. “Hi. I just got in. Ran for the phone in a dark apartment and realized I don’t know the placement of my furniture as well as I thought I did.”

He chuckled. “Oops. Toe?”

“Knee.”

“Ice,” he instructed.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Okay, Doc,” he said in a placating tone. “Long day?”

She sighed. “Sort of. The case is moving at a snail’s pace.”

“Can’t say I’m sorry about that. It just means you’ll be in town a little longer.”

She smiled at his admission. “We had dinner with the sheriff and his wife at their house, though. That was nice.”

“You and Agent Mulder?”

“Yes. It’s rare that we get to eat decent food on assignment. I think it bothers me more than it does Mulder. His usual fare is take-out and TV dinners.”

“Devoted bachelor, huh?”

“Hopelessly.”

“Does he have a girlfriend?”

The question startled her. “No,” she responded. Then the early morning phone call from the other day teased her brain -  Diana’s voice in the background. “Actually, I’m…not sure. We don’t exactly talk about those things.” At least not anymore, she thought.

“Well, it’s a sad fact of bachelorhood,” Adam said, his cheerful voice bringing her back. “We often share a rather parasitic attachment to frozen and processed foods. I do have a few tricks up my sleeve, though. Sometime I’ll cook for you if you promise to temper your expectations. I’m never really sure if what I make is any good.”

“Oh yeah, why is that?”

“Well, my audience consists of myself and Moses and he doesn’t exactly have a discerning palate. His basic requirement is that it’s food and there has even been some flexibility at times regarding that. Sometimes he just settles for not moving.”

She giggled. “He’s adorable. But huge. What does he weigh?”

He lowered his voice noticeably. “One seventy. Shh.”

She followed suit, cupping the receiver with her palm and grinning widely. “Why are we whispering?”

“He’s a little sensitive about his size.”

“Well, you should tell him size isn’t everything.”

He snorted. “You know, I tell him the right woman will love him for his witty sense of humor, his unfailing loyalty, his romantic charm. But he’s tough on himself. If it’s a bad scale morning, forget it – I get the long face and we have to ride to work listening to country music in the truck.”

She laughed loudly. “Oh no. Well I think he looks perfect.”

“Maybe you could tell him that. I think it would mean a lot coming from you. Hang on, he’s trying to get my attention….what now, Mose? No, we’re not going to watch Lassie again. I know you like her, but Dude, she’s not real.” He came back to the phone. “Good grief, it’s like doggie porn.”

“He needs a date,” she said sympathetically, playing along. “Maybe a pretty Golden Retriever or a lovely German Shepherd.”

 “Yeah, do you know any? I tried fixing him up once with my neighbor’s standard poodle, but she was way out of his league. Spoke French or some kind of nonsense and had pink bows all over the place. Moses is really looking for a fun, low-maintenance kind of girl. One who’s not afraid to cut loose and play a little beach Frisbee.”

“Mmm, I’ll keep my eyes open,” she said, toeing her shoes off and curling further into the chair.

“Believe it or not, Moses is the reason I’m calling you at-“ a pause, “11:41 at night.”

Her eyebrows arched, curiously. “Oh really?”

“Yeah. He wondered what your favorite pizza toppings are.”

“He did,” she giggled. “Um…veges, I guess. Mushrooms, fresh tomatoes, peppers...”

“Uh-oh. He was afraid you might say that.”

“He was?”

“Yes, he’s really more of a meat lover.”

 “Mmm, I see. Well, we could do half and half,” she suggested.

“He says it’s a date.”

“And will you be joining us – Moses and me – for pizza?”

“I think I could fit you guys in, sure. Why don’t you call me when you’re done working tomorrow evening.”

“I’ll do that. Please tell Moses I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too – I mean, he is too,” he chuckled. “Good night, Lady G.”

“Good night.” She hung up with a sleepy smile on her face and shuffled off the bed.

 

END PART FOUR


	14. Chapter 14

PART FIVE

Maggiano Jewelers, Lusby, MD

Mulder sighed and leaned his bare elbows against the glass counter, then shifted his feet and stood up straight again. A short, plump middle-aged woman with hair the color of tapioca pudding ambled over almost immediately with a bottle of Windex and a cloth and wiped the glass where his flesh has been. A man in a pinstriped suit who wore a ring on every finger and who had introduced himself as Saul Maggiano closed a large three-ring binder with finality and turned to them once again.

“And you’re certain you have no photos of the ring in question?” he sighed.

“I’m sorry, no,” said Scully. “Only descriptions.”

“No vendor information?”

“Correct.” She half-wondered if flashing the shiny badge one more time might generate a hair more enthusiasm from their subject or make her feel any less ineffective.

“No purchase receipt or sales slip?”

“If we had that, we wouldn’t need your sales records for the past sixty days, now would we?” Mulder managed, a bit harshly.

Scully nudged his leg warningly with her knee and he gave up and loped off. She heard the chime of the bells, indicating that he had taken his refuge outside while she finished their inquiry. “Mr. Maggiano, we appreciate your assistance with our investigation,” she said, hopefully.

“It’ll be a day or two until I can get the records together.

She took a business card from her jacket, flipped it over and scrawled a number on the back. “As soon as you have them, please fax them to the attention of Sheriff Davis Fletcher at the Calvert County Sheriff’s Office.”

“Of course. I hope you find who you’re looking for. In the meantime, perhaps a pretty lady such as yourself might be interested in taking a look at something in this case over here. I have some exquisite aquamarine earrings that would match your eyes beautifully.”

She offered a polite, tight-lipped smile. “Thank you again for your help.”

When she left the store, she found Mulder wandering the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, shirt sleeves rolled up. They had both left their overcoats in the car to accommodate the warm spring day. Temperatures had to be at least seventy degrees and the sun was shining. By all accounts, it was a lovely afternoon and she’d be in a much better mood if she hadn’t had to put up with Mulder’s attitude. He’d been less than cheerful ever since she met him at the sheriff’s office after 9 a.m. She had wondered briefly if it had had anything to do with her call that morning to say she’d be driving her own car again because she had plans for the evening. His possessive and petulant attitude was really starting to grate on her nerves. She didn’t appreciate him treating her as if she owed him an explanation for what she did, when he had made it damn well clear that he didn’t owe her the same.

He had been on his cell phone when she had arrived at the sheriff’s office that morning, after a long drive through heavier than normal traffic.   She had settled into a chair and began sifting through case documents while trying to ignore his side of the phone conversation, which consisted of “I might be able to go with you later today”; “It’s in the files I gave you the other night”; and “Just use your key.” The last two statements knotted her stomach for reasons she refused to overanalyze and made her gulp her coffee, burning her tongue. After he hung up the phone, he had turned to her and simply said, “Where have you been?” in a condescending tone.  His gelled hair made him look like an angry hedgehog. The day had gone downhill from there.

She trailed him on the sidewalk outside the jewelry store until they were within talking distance. “Mr. Maggiano will fax the sales records to Fletcher’s office in the next day or so,” she offered, suppressing the urge to add “and what the fuck is your problem?”

“It’s not the place,” he sniffed. “The ring didn’t come from here.”

“We’ll see. It can’t hurt to go through the sales records.”

“It’s a waste of time. We’ve visited thirteen jewelers in six different towns in Calvert county and they’re all dead ends.”

“There are five more to cover on the list. The next one’s in Mechanicsville, which isn’t far. Maybe-“

“Maybe you didn’t hear me, Scully. It’s a waste of time.”

She could literally feel her body temperature rise several degrees. “Yes, I heard you. And right now I’m desperately trying to keep myself from saying something I’ll regret. This is what case work is, Mulder, or did you forget that? We interview people, we wade through oceans of useless paperwork and we work the leads. If you can’t be bothered to do that, and you’d rather be somewhere else, then just go. Because you’re wasting my time and you’re sure as hell not doing this case any favors. But if you think you can get your shit together long enough to finish running our list of leads on the jewelers, then I’ll meet you in the car.” 

She stormed down the sidewalk and managed to go a distance before realizing, with some chagrin, that he had the car keys. So she stood at the car and waited until he made his way over and unlocked the doors with the press of a button. Instead of taking to the passenger seat, like usual, she sat down behind the steering wheel. He walked over to her and peered in through her open door without a word. She couldn’t be sure if his expression was smug or contrite because she refused to make eye contact with him.

“Give me the keys, Mulder. I’m driving.” She held out a tiny hand, palm up.

He hesitated a good long moment and then wisely dropped them into her waiting hand and retreated to the passenger side.

“So when you said you weren’t saying the things you’d regret, you mean there’s more?” he mumbled.

She ignored him and took a hard left onto the route to Mechanicsville.

They were still a good ten miles from their destination when she announced that they needed gas and pulled into a station. He got out without a word and began to pump. She heard a dull buzzing sound and glanced at his empty seat to find his abandoned cell phone walking across it. The black lettering against the white cell phone screen read “Diana.” Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back against the head rest, and waited for the buzzing to stop.

“You missed a call,” she said when he got back into the car. He was checking his voice mail when she pulled out, tossing up gravel in their wake.

They were a mile from the exit to Mechanicsville when Mulder’s phone buzzed again. Scully clenched her jaw. “We’re working a case, Mulder. Do you think you could please ask her to have the decency to wait until-“

“Mulder,” he answered in a businesslike tone and she knew it wasn’t who she had suspected.

“When?” A short pause. “We’re on our way.”

She looked back and forth between him and the road, eyes curiously wide.

“That was Fletcher. Henry’s gone missing.”

Scully pulled a U-turn at the next intersection and punched the accelerator.

 

*******

 

Second Cup Café

Davis Fletcher was sitting at a table taking notes from an emotionally distraught Sarah Bishop while Neil paced next to them in a stained grill apron and tired eyes. A look of relief passed over his face when the bell chimed on the door, announcing their arrival. It was mid-afternoon and well beyond the lunchtime rush. Only a handful of patrons were in the diner, but all eyes were on him and Scully, as if the cavalry had arrived.

“He’s never done this before,” said Sarah Bishop, through a shaky voice and tear-stained cheeks. She appeared to be directing her words mostly to Scully. “He’s never left the restaurant by himself. It’s just not like him.”

Scully reached for the woman’s hand and squeezed it compassionately.

“We need to be out there looking instead of in here talking to you people,” said Neil, tightly. “We’re wasting time.”

Sheriff Fletcher’s voice was calm and rational. “I know you feel that way, but you’re much more help to Henry if you stay right here. This is where he knows you are, and hopefully this is where he’ll return. Now, I’ve got a deputy posted at your home in case Henry shows up there, and I’ve got every man I’ve got canvassing the area. We’re going to find him.”

Sarah Bishop sniffled and nodded, uncertainly. Her husband gave up the incessant pacing and sat down in a chair. His leg bobbed with nervous energy and he repeatedly ran a hand through his cropped hair.  “What do you need us to do?” he asked. “Because I sure as hell can’t sit here and do nothing.”

Fletcher pushed a yellow legal pad toward the man. “I need you and Sarah to make a list. Give me every place within walking distance that Henry goes regularly. The park, the grocery store, his grandparents’ house, his doctor’s office, everywhere and anywhere you can think of. Even if you can’t imagine why he’d go there by himself. Write it down. I need to have a word with Agents Mulder and Scully and I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”

Henry’s parents nodded cooperatively and Sheriff Fletcher led the agents to a nearby booth.

“How long?” asked Mulder.

“About an hour and a half.”

Scully pulled out her notebook and pen. “What do we know?”

Fletcher sighed. “A hell of a lot less than I need to right about now. Sarah said Henry was sketching at his booth one minute, then she went into the storage room to get something and when she came out, he was gone. There were only a couple of customers sitting at the counter when it happened and neither saw a thing. My best guess is that the boy just got up and walked out.”

“You don’t think he was taken?” asked Mulder.

The Sheriff offered a frustrated half-shrug. “I’m not saying it isn’t possible. But he would have had to have gone willingly. No noise, no visible signs of a struggle.”

“Henry wouldn’t have made a sound,” said Scully confidently. “He’s trusting. He would have gone willingly, even if he shouldn’t have.”

“I’m short-staffed,” Fletcher said. “I’ve got one deputy out recovering from knee surgery. Every available guy I’ve got is out there looking.”

“Give us a list of places and we’re on our way,” said Mulder.

The Sheriff nodded his head. “I can’t officially put out an all-points bulletin unless I’m fairly certain this is an abduction, and as of now, I’m not.”

Mulder and Scully nodded in agreement, being familiar with the confines of the law.

“But I’d like to redirect my men to set up road blocks and highway checks as a precautionary measure. If you two can take the list of locations the Bishops come up with and cover those, it would be a big help.”

“Done,” said Mulder.  Five minutes later, they had caffeine to go and a two page list of destinations. He raised an open hand and an eyebrow and Scully tossed him the keys over the hood of the car. It was an unspoken arrangement – whenever map navigation was called for, he drove and she rode shotgun. If they relied on him to get them anywhere, they’d end up driving in circles. Not to mention reading maps made him car sick. Scully could navigate a fighter jet onto a football field using Rand McNally alone.

She slid her sunglasses on and trailed one manicured fingernail across a wrinkled map. “Let’s start at the waterfront, then hit all the public parks before heading west toward the doctor, the grocery store, and the library. Go.”

“He’s alright, Scully.”

“I know.” She didn’t sound convinced.

 

*******


	15. Chapter 15

Two frustrating hours later, they had covered all the locations on the list with no luck and were getting ready to make a second pass by the parks when Mulder’s cell phone rang. The phone’s screen told him it was Davis Fletcher calling.

“Gimme some good news, Sheriff.”

“We’ve got him.”

“Where? Is he okay” Mulder’s eyes connected with Scully’s.  He nodded and saw her release a deep breath of relief.

“You aren’t going to believe it.” Fletcher’s voice sounded hoarse with exhaustion.

“Try me.”

“Carrie Rhodes just found Henry sitting in her daughter’s bedroom.”

It took Mulder a moment, unsure if he’d heard the Sheriff correctly. “IN her bedroom? Right inside the house? How did he get in?”

Scully watched him anxiously, trying to decode his end of the conversation.

“My best guess is that he walked in through the front door.”

“Just like that.”

“Just like that,” echoed the sheriff.

“What was he doing there?” Mulder asked.

“Well… he was drawing. Just…drawing. Mrs. Rhodes screamed so loudly a neighbor heard and phoned it in.”

“Did he hurt anyone? Where is Henry now?”

“He’s sitting in an interrogation room with my deputy as we speak, waiting for his parents to arrive. And no, he didn’t hurt anyone, not physically anyway. I think it’ll be awhile until the Rhodes family leaves their front door unlocked again, though.”

Mulder shook his head slowly in disbelief. “What would motivate him to go there?”

“I haven’t the foggiest, and call it a hunch, but somehow I don’t think Henry’s planning to tell us either.”

“We’ll meet you at your office in a few minutes,” said Mulder, maneuvering a quick three-point turn and speeding off in the direction they had just come from. 

 

*******

 

At the advice of their new attorney, the Bishops had said very little other than to collect their son and leave with weary postures and red-rimmed eyes. There didn’t seem to be any viable reason why Henry had chosen to walk out of the diner by himself, make his way a mile and a half to 117 Beech Street, walk through the front door, ascend the stairs, open the door to Amy Rhodes’ untouched, dusty bedroom, and sit down on her bed to sketch.

Even the drawing itself offered no clues as Mulder stared at it until the room around him fell out of focus and he felt as if he could sink right inside the picture. The drawing was black and white and depicted the outside of Henry’s own house – a modest, one story brick ranch. It was quite common for Henry to draw either his house or the diner, and this sketch was no different than about fifteen others in his sketchpad. If Henry was sending a message, he was going to have to be a hell of a lot more blatant than this.

Sheriff Fletcher walked into the interrogation room and closed the door before folding his lean body into a chair and resting his forehead on his palm. Mulder didn’t think he’d ever seen a man look like he could use a stiff drink more than Fletcher did right about now. “The Rhodes aren’t pressing charges.”

“How is Mrs. Rhodes doing?” asked Scully.

Fletcher rubbed his temples and shook his head slowly in answer.

Mulder continued to stare down at Henry’s drawing and tapped the tip of his pen frantically. “Why this? Why would he draw this?”

Scully silently reached over and covered his chattering ballpoint with her hand, ceasing its movement. “Because it’s his home and it’s comforting to him. Maybe he-he- wandered off, he got lost, so he drew the familiar-“

“He got lost in our murder victim’s bedroom? I’m all for random cosmic forces, Scully, but I’d say that arguing coincidence in this scenario is pretty weak, even for you.” He pushed the drawing across the table and underneath Sheriff Fletcher’s nose. “Tell me what I’m not seeing.”

Fletcher sighed and looked down vacuously. “I’ll tell you what I am seeing. I’m seeing a murder case that’s a week old now and I’ve got little more than I did when the body was found. I’ve got a list of over nine thousand dark colored SUVs registered in Calvert county and no license plate information to narrow it down. I’ve got no murder weapon, no solid leads, and our primary suspect is an invisible Don Juan. I’ve got an eleven-year-old kid who doesn’t talk, but communicates with strange psychic drawings. I’ve got the first murder that has happened in this community in a decade and next to nothing to go on.”

“We’ll find something soon,” Mulder said, unconvincingly. “Agent Scully and I still have several more jewelers to follow up with tomorrow and maybe your guys will get a hit with the motels.”

“Have the medical records on Amy Rhodes come in yet, Sheriff?” asked Scully.

Fletcher shook his head. “I subpoenaed them the day before yesterday. I don’t know what the hold up is, but I’ll make another call and see if I can get them here tomorrow for you.”

“Go home and have dinner with your wife, Sheriff,” said Mulder. “We know where to reach you.”

They agreed that Mulder and Scully would finish following up on the jewelry store leads before meeting the sheriff at his office in the afternoon. It wasn’t where any of them wanted to be after four days working a case and the frustration they all felt was evident. Mulder couldn’t help but feel that something was staring him in the face and he was missing it. He was about to take the case file notes with him to review again at home when his phone vibrated, reminding him that he had another tentative commitment for the evening.     

*******

Dana turned down the visor on her car as she made her way to the waterfront. Even with her sunglasses on, it was a bright and radiant late day sun. She drove with the windows partially down, enjoying the uncommonly warm, sea-soaked air. It was about ten degrees warmer than it usually was in late April. In fact, it wouldn’t have been out-of-place to wear shorts and she had noticed that many were doing just that. The boardwalk was busy, the pleasant weather encouraging folks from their homes. People walked their dogs, pushed strollers, jogged, and rollerbladed. She imagined how busy it would be during the peak tourist season from Memorial Day in late May until Labor Day in early September.

She had opted for comfortable jeans, a fitted white tee shirt, and sandals. She had also brought along a light windbreaker jacket. Although the temperature hovered just below eighty degrees right now, it would cool off dramatically after the sun went down and she had no idea how long their evening would last. It was Friday and for the first time in longer than she could easily recall, she had plans that involved more than her laundry, a stack of medical journals, and dinner for one.

A smile crept onto her face remembering Adam’s call from the night before. They had talked on the phone often this week and she liked it. He was funny and sweet and witty and honest, and she was  reminded that yes, it could really be just this easy. She had no idea where, if anywhere, things might be headed between them and she felt strangely comfortable with that. All she knew for sure was that she enjoyed his company and for the first time in far too long, she felt like a woman. Not a federal agent, not a doctor, not a vigilante fighting to expose a dangerous conspiracy or Spooky Mulder’s sidekick. Just a woman. And judging from the way he looked at her, a desirable one at that. She was not usually one for pondering the concept of fate, but she couldn’t help wondering if it was all more than a simple coincidence –that for some reason, she was supposed to cross paths with Adam again at this time in her life.   

She parked her car near the hangar and locked it, then made her way toward the water, watching her footing along the rocks. There was no sign of Adam and she wondered if perhaps he was inside the hangar. She knew he hadn’t forgotten because she had spoken to him on her cell phone a half an hour ago to tell him she was on her way. He had said he’d go ahead and call in the pizza order.  

Moses bounded out from the hangar doing the full-body wag and she greeted him enthusiastically with a scratch behind the ears and a genuine smile. The dog followed at her heels as she peeked inside the hangar, her eyes adjusting to the dim indoor lighting. The man with the ponytail from the other day was there, adjusting the lines on a sail and he greeted her with a casual nod.

“Is Adam around?” she asked.

“Yeah, hang on.  I think he’s in the office. I’m Deacon, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Deacon. I’m Dana.”

“Yeah,” he said with a slacker bob of the head, and she wondered if that meant he had heard her name mentioned before.

Deacon disappeared down a narrow hallway toward the back of the building, and she heard him call out, “Hey Adam! Dude, you got company.” Alone briefly, she took a moment to look around. The place was absolutely enormous. Besides the sailboat Deacon had been working on, there was another of equal size toward the back of the building and one along the east wall, two smaller boats were parked in the middle of the hangar, and there was room for at least a few more. The opposite wall was lined with beams of lumber in various sizes. Looking above her head, she noticed that there had to be a dozen or more rowboats, canoes, and kayaks on pulleys hanging from the rafters.

“Hi! Sorry, I had meant to wait for you down by the docks, but I had to take a phone call.” Adam smiled at her, holding a large pizza box. “Good timing, the pizza just got here.”

Then he turned to Deacon. “That was Jack Capani. He wants to pick it up Monday instead of Tuesday. I told him I’d call him back. I wasn’t sure if you were done yet.”

Deacon nodded. “Finished up this afternoon. The wax just needs to dry, but it can go Monday.”

Adam walked over to the boat and appraised it visually. “Nice work,” he said, appreciatively. “It looks good, D. Why don’t you knock off for the day. Pete left over an hour ago.”

“Yeah, okay. I’m just gonna finish up this sail and then I’m outta here.” Deacon went back to work quietly.

“Are all of these boats sold already?” she asked, eyes wandering.

“Everything in here is, yes. Well, except for the rowboats and the canoes,” he gestured with his head toward the ceiling. “Those are just a hobby. I make them when I have time. I’ve got two more boats docked, besides my own – one is sold and one isn’t. But generally, they’re made to order according to customer specifications.”

“How long does it take?” she asked, strolling by the stern of a smaller boat and admiring the gloss.

“That one there was built in a week. It’s a smaller one. The bigger ones, like what Deac’s working on, take three to four, sometimes longer.”

“How many people work for you?”

“There are three of us full-time – Deacon, Pete – the older guy who was here when you stopped the other day, and myself.  Then I’ve got Victor who comes in a couple of days a week to do mechanical repairs, and I also hire a few high school and college kids over the summer for the tourist season.”

“They’re beautiful,” she said, running the pad of her thumb along the wood. “The craftsmanship is amazing, Adam.”

He shrugged modestly. “It beats designing high rise apartment buildings and shopping malls for a living.”

“I can see why you love it,” she said with sincerity.

Deacon, who had finished up, cleared his throat. “So I’ll see ya Monday, Adam. Nice to meet you, Dana.”

“Nice to meet you too, Deacon.”

“Have a nice weekend, Man,” said Adam. “Stay out of trouble.”

Deacon snorted at that comment and strolled toward the hangar door, waving his hand lazily over his head. “Always.”

Adam regarded her curiously. “Now, we can take this pizza, stretch out on the dock, and eat it right out of the box, or if you’d prefer something more civilized, I have some plates and flatware out on my boat.”

“It’s a nice evening. Let’s sit on the dock.”

He smiled, obviously pleased with her answer. They grabbed two Cokes from a stocked refrigerator in the hangar and made their way down to sit at the end of one of the four docks. Dana stretched her denim legs out in front and leaned back on two hands braced behind her, soaking in the sun. The water lapped at the sides of the dock and she closed her eyes and breathed the salty air deep into her city lungs. “Okay, you win for having the most beautiful office in the history of work.”

“You haven’t seen my office,” he chuckled. “If you thought my truck was bad…”

“I mean this location in general. It’s like being on a permanent vacation.”

“It is nice. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else now. I used to take the subway into midtown Manhattan and then walk four blocks to work. My office was a cubicle on the thirty-first floor. A large cubicle, but still. If I was lucky, I got to eat my lunch on a bench in Central Park. Most days I skipped lunch and went to the gym. And now…I come here every day.” He gazed out over the open water. “All in all, not a bad trade.”

She sighed. “I could get used to it.”

“So what about you, Lady G? They give you the large corner office over there at the Hoover?”

She barked out a laugh and rolled her eyes, smiling. “Something like that, yeah. Actually, Mulder and I aren’t in the office much. We spend a lot of our time working in the field.”

“Is that what you like? Being out in the field?” He opened the pizza box and gestured with his hand for her to help herself.

She chose a slice with tomatoes, mushrooms, and green peppers. “For a while recently, we had the misfortune of being reassigned to desk duty – background checks and such. Let’s just say it wasn’t what I had in mind when I joined the FBI.”

“That does sound like a drag. Did you consider leaving and going back to medicine?”

She paused, thoughtfully, and chewed. “Yes. I did.”

“What stopped you?”

“It’s sort of complicated. Mulder and I, we…” She sighed, gathering her thoughts. “Over the years our work has become our quest. We had unfinished business to see to and if I left…well, it would have been like abandoning everything we’d worked for.”

He regarded her for a long quiet moment. “And you would have been abandoning him,” he said, softly.

Her cheeks warmed. “It’s not like that. It’s personal, but not like that,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “Mulder has seen me through some difficult times. Not long ago, I had a serious health scare, and Mulder was there for me. I don’t know what I would have done without him.”

“But you’re okay now?”

She exhaled and smiled. “I’m okay now.”

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with that. A moment of silence passed. “And now you’re back in the field.”

“Yes, we are, thankfully.” She sank her mouth over another large bite and dragged a too-big slice of tomato with it, having to catch some with her hand. He smiled, amused, and handed her a napkin. She chewed and swallowed, looking down at her shirt to make sure it was still clean. “I’m a messy eater,” she smiled, self-consciously.

He grinned right back at her. “I know. I remember.”

She held a napkin over her mouth, embarrassed. “Oh, great.”

“It’s one of the things I always loved about you. You know how to eat.”

“I don’t know how to take that.”

“As a compliment. You know how to have fun. You always did.”

She took a drink of her Coke and paused quietly, her face sobering some.

He noticed her fading smile. “What? What did I say?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. I just-sometimes I feel as if I’ve forgotten how to have fun over the years.”

His eyes twinkled affectionately. “Oh no. You haven’t. It’s still in there, I see it.”

“You do?” She searched his eyes.

He nodded and they both smiled and chewed in comfortable silence, listening to moving water and the distant motors of boats and sea gulls. She loved feeling like she could completely be herself around him. It was like starting out at the fifth date – that magical point where the conversation had gone beyond small talk to the things that really mattered, and when the silence came, it was warm and snug, like a favorite pair of gloves.

Moses, who was lying prone about six feet from them, emitted a high-pitched whine and rested his furry head on two outstretched paws. Dana looked from the dog to Adam to the dog and back to Adam again before popping her bottom lip out in a sympathetic pout.

Adam paused with his second slice of pepperoni and sausage poised at his mouth. “Aw, don’t tell me he’s got you now.”

“Well, technically, this whole pizza thing was his idea to begin with,” she argued jokingly. “Just one?”

Adam sighed and narrowed his gaze at the dog, who was now sporting the biggest, saddest, most pathetic wet brown eyes.

“Come on. Just one,” she pushed.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Fine, one slice.”

Dana reached into the box for a meat slice and deposited it in front of Moses, whose tail thumped against the wooden dock in gratitude.

Moses devoured the food in record time and set about licking his chops like it was another whole meal. “He’s so awesome,” she said, reaching for another veggie slice for herself. “Did you get him as a puppy?”

Adam nodded. “I did indeed. He was about the size of my shoe when I got him. A month later, he ate my shoe.” They both laughed and Moses wagged companionably. “In fact, during his first year alone, he ate a VCR, a futon, the wooden legs off my dining room chairs, and swallowed my mother’s hearing aid whole. You have no idea how much fun it is to try and recover an eight-hundred dollar hearing aid after it passes through a dog. Indescribably…tactile experience.”

Dana wrinkled her nose and looked down at her half-eaten second slice of pizza.

“Sorry. You were probably looking for fewer details about my dog.”

She smiled and regarded Moses, who was enraptured by the leftover food. The dog was no doubt praying to the canine Gods that the foolish humans would inadvertently leave the rest of the pizza unattended, even for a split second. “So am I to assume that you have no furniture in your house?”

Adam made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “Nah, he’s okay now. These days, he’d rather sleep on the furniture than eat it. I bought a new living room set last winter and so far, so good.”

Dana finished her pizza and took a drink of Coke before stretching out on her back and reaching both arms over her head to pet Moses. She missed having a dog. They’d always had pets growing up on the base. A string of random stray cats and several well-loved dogs over the years. She’d thought about getting another dog after losing Queequag, but ultimately decided that her travel schedule didn’t lend itself well to the responsibility. The dog would spend more time with her mother than with her. But if she had a normal job, a normal life, yeah she’d have a dog. She’d probably have a lot of things she didn’t have.

“Which boat is yours?” she asked.

He gestured over her head with his right arm. “Two boats over. The thirty-six footer, red and orange sail.”

She sat up and cupped a hand above her eyes to see better. It was beautiful, quite impressively large with a honey-colored wooden finish that glimmered in the sunlight and white lettering on the side. She read the name on the boat and smiled back at him, coyly. “Plan B?”

He shrugged and arched a brow, looking down at his hands and smirking. “Plan A didn’t work out so well.”

“You built that. By yourself.”

“Yes. Well, mostly. I built the entire hull and the cabin. Deacon helped me with the finish and getting the mast and the mainsail erected.”

“I thought you built your boat before you started the business? How did you meet Deacon?”

“He was working part-time at the marina. The rest of the time he spent down on the docks, restoring his own boat – an old 1960s pontoon fishing boat. We started hanging out, lending each other a hand. Deac was my first and only friend when I first came to the island. He comes from a line of three generations of fishermen, but his real talent is woodworking. He didn’t have the capital to start his own business and Deacon has…some personal issues.”

She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped two arms around them, listening with interest. “He seems quiet,” she said. “Nice.”

Adam nodded. “Deacon served three years for burglary and petit larceny. He was young and stupid, got mixed up with the wrong people. His parole ended two years ago. He’s a good guy who made some bad decisions. He was starting over when we met. So was I.” He shrugged. “When I started the business, I hired him and I’m grateful every day. I couldn’t do it without Deac. He’s been a good friend.”

She smiled. “Is that his real name? Deacon?”

Adam chuckled. “Nope. It’s Arthur Hampstotter.”

Dana’s brows arched and she nodded slowly. “That’s…unfortunate. I think I might go by something else too.”

“His Dad’s nickname for him when he was a kid was Deacon. He used to go out on his father’s fishing boat with him all the time. When Deacon was twelve, his father was killed in a boating accident. Ever since, he’s gone by Deacon.”

She smiled sadly and her pinky finger drifted over to rest against his. “What’s it like living on a boat?”

“Simple,” he replied, thoughtfully. “It’s amazing how little you really need, you know? Do you want to see it? The boat?”

She nodded and he stood, extending a hand to help her to her feet. His cell phone rang before they could get far.

“Excuse me for a minute. I need to grab this one,” he said, apologetically. She busied herself closing up the pizza box and gathering their napkins. Moses perked up and eyed her with hopeful eyes, inching closer on his furry belly and thumping his tail.

She smiled at the dog and offered him a firm head scratch. “Sorry, Moses. No more. You’ll get me in trouble.”

Adam walked back over, the conflicted look on his face telling her that there might be a change in plans. “Have you ever seen a beached dolphin rescued?”

Her eyes widened. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

“That was Frankie, a friend of mine who works for the Baltimore Aquarium. A couple of joggers just called in a dolphin struggling in the shallows about two miles down. It will be an hour before rescuers can get here. I need to go see if there’s anything I can do until help arrives. Do you want to go with me?”

She faltered in surprise. This definitely wasn’t what she had been expecting, but the thought of witnessing a marine rescue was exciting. “I’d love to go. Are you sure it’s okay?”

He smiled, apparently relieved that she wasn’t put off by an impulsive change in plans. “Absolutely. Just…I don’t know what I’m going to find. I’m not sure if it’s alive or dead. Are you okay with that?”

She nodded without hesitation, feeling the urgency of the situation. “Let’s go.”

“I have a wet suit in my truck. I’ll just throw that on,” he said, jogging off toward the vehicle.

“What about Moses?” she called out.

“He’ll come along. He’s been on at least a dozen of these.”

She watched from a distance as he peeled off his shirt and tossed it into the cab of the truck, then unbuttoned his jeans and folded them down. A narrow stretch of sparse, downy hair extended from his navel southward over his flat abdomen to below his jeans and she swallowed hard, feel her face warm. He reached into the pickup truck to pull out a black wet suit. His tanned, muscular torso moved fluidly and she found herself hopelessly unable to look away. Her breath hitched at the sudden thought that he might simply strip down right there in order to save time. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed when he went around to the other side of the truck to finish changing. When she realized that she was standing there staring with a slack mouth, she composed herself and turned to carry the half-empty pizza box off to the hangar and put the leftovers in the fridge.

When she got back to the truck, Moses was standing in the bed wagging his tail. He offered her a friendly, beckoning bark. Adam was already behind the wheel with the engine running and she slid into the passenger seat.

She buckled her seatbelt and pulled her sunglasses down from the top of her head. “You rescued a dozen dolphins?” she asked, incredulously.

“No,” he chuckled. “A handful. The rest have been a variety of other marine life – seals, sea otters, porpoises…oh, and two sharks – one sandbar shark and one bull shark.” His eyes were on the road as he drove, impervious to her bewildered expression.

“How did you…when did…” her voice trailed off. She wasn’t sure which question to start with.

He glanced at her and laughed. “I forgot to mention I did this, didn’t I?”

She smiled. “You might have, yeah.”

“I found one. A couple of months after I got down here. I was walking Moses on the beach. He was just a puppy then. And we found a beached Striped dolphin. It had an injured dorsal fin. So we called it in and waited until rescuers arrived. Weeks later, I was contacted by Frankie, the marine biologist who rehabilitated the dolphin we’d found, to ask if we wanted to watch the dolphin rereleased. We got to ride out on the boat and watch the whole thing…and it was pretty amazing. Since then, I’ve been helping out. The closest marine rehabilitation program is in Baltimore. It typically takes rescuers an hour or more to arrive on the scene. So when a stranding is called in, I go and stay with the animal and do what I can until help arrives.”

“That’s an amazing story,” she said. “Do most of them end up being rereleased?”

He shook his head, sadly. “Unfortunately, no. I’d say less than half. Beachings happen for a variety of reasons -  typically injury, illness, or age. In the majority of cases, the outcome isn’t so good.”   

She nodded soberly, understanding what it was they were likely to find and mentally preparing herself.

He drove the truck down a rough access road and onto the beach. “It should be right around here.” He cut the engine and they both exited the vehicle, eyes scanning the shallow water. The wind caught her hair and it tumbled about her head. She immediately found it difficult and awkward to walk on the sand in her shoes, so she dropped down and pulled them off, tossing them through the open window onto the passenger seat. She followed him in bare feet down toward the water. Moses, who had jumped out as soon as the truck stopped moving, bounded down the beach ahead of them.  “Where is it, Boy?” he called out, his words being swallowed by the drum of the surf.   

Dana scanned the horizon, one hand shielding her eyes from the bright orange sun that was little more than an hour from setting. “Adam, over there!” she pointed at something floating forty-five degrees off to the right of where they were and they both took off at a jog. She stopped abruptly at the surf, inhaling briskly at the feel of the chilly ocean water on her bare feet, but Adam forged ahead without hesitation, his wet suit insulating him from the cold.

“What can I do?” she called out.

“Just wait there. I’ll see if I can pull it to the shore.”

She was frustrated by the idea of standing there and doing nothing, but her lack of appropriate gear and the temperature of the water made her think twice about throwing caution to the wind and following him in. She watched as he made it to the animal within minutes and began doing a cursory examination. She didn’t realize she had been holding her breath until his next words caused her to sigh in relief.

“It’s alive.”

 He struggled to try and move the dolphin toward shore in the waist-high water. From where she stood, the animal didn’t look to be all that big, but she couldn’t even begin to guess what it might weigh. Even with the help of the water, it would be a challenge for Adam to pull it to shore by himself.

“It’s tangled in a fishing net,” he called out. “There’s a utility knife in a tool box in the back of my truck.”

“I’ll get it,” she replied, turning and running up the beach toward the vehicle. Hoisting herself into the bed of the truck with her arms, she walked about carefully in her bare feet until she found what she was looking for in the second of two large, red tool boxes. By the time she got back down to the surf, Adam had managed to drag the dolphin closer to shore so that the depth of the water only came up to his knees.

“I can’t get her any closer without cutting the net,” he said, his words tinged with exertion. “The rope is just too heavy.”

Without a second thought, Dana waded into the surf and made her way toward him, trying to ignore the ice cold water biting through her clothing. The bottom of her jeans clung to her skin like a soaked glove, immediately numbing her.

“What are you doing? Dana, no. You’re not dressed for this. This water can’t be more than fifty degrees.” He reached for her arm to steady her in the pounding surf.

“It’s alright, I’m fine. You need help.” She held the handle of the knife out to him and after a shake of the head and a dubious smile, he took it from her.

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

The corners of her mouth edged upward. She was used to being the one saying those words. It felt good to be the crazy one for a change. She watched him go to work on the tangled rope, sawing with the rough edge of the blade, but the material was tough nylon and didn’t give easily. His jaw set tight with the effort. Common sense told her to pull the rope taught and away from the dolphin’s flesh to make it easier for him to work. He nodded at her that she was doing the right thing, and they worked silently and diligently together. Each time he broke through the nylon with the blade, she moved her hands to the next section of rope and he followed her, sawing steadily and carefully.

By the time they had managed to free one of the dolphin’s fins, her lower extremities had gone completely numb and her hands were bright red from the cold. Although the water only came up to her thighs, her shirt was soaked from the continual tide that kept sweeping in, threatening her balance. Twice she had come close to toppling over into the surf and she had to grasp his shoulder to stay upright.

“Let’s see if we can move her now.” He had to nearly yell to be heard above the surf, even though their heads were barely a foot apart. “You need to get out of the water. I can do this part.”

“I’m okay, Adam. She’s too heavy for you to move alone.” Her teeth chattered despite herself.

“Dana! Get out of the water. You’re freezing!”

She shook her head vehemently. “I’m okay.” She wrapped two arms around the torso of the animal and began tugging gently. “Stop wasting time arguing and let’s get her out of the water!”

He fixed her with a look. “You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.”

“So I’ve been told. Now tell me what to do here.”

Realizing she wasn’t taking no for an answer, his attention returned to the floundering dolphin. “Okay. Don’t pull on the fins; they’re easily damaged. Come around to the back of her and very gently push with your palms underneath her. I’ll lift as much of her as I can and guide her in. When we get her to the sand, it’s going to get harder. We may need to carefully roll her. Got it?”

She nodded and they shifted positions in the water so she was braced behind the animal and Adam was to her right side, both arms wrapped around the dolphin as far as they would reach. When she felt him lift the animal, she pushed steadily, as she had been instructed and slowly, gradually, the dolphin moved. Her bare feet dug into the sandy bottom and gripped, despite no feeling whatsoever in her toes. The waves continued to assault, wetting the ends of her hair. When she licked her lips, she tasted the salty seaspray.

As Adam had predicted, when the dolphin’s belly finally reached sand, the animal stopped moving altogether. He dropped to his knees in the water and rotated the dolphin so it was parallel with the shoreline. “I’m going to see if I can roll her in further. When I do, I need you to tuck her fins gently, so they’re tight to her body. They’re flexible; you won’t hurt her.”

“Okay.” Dana gingerly touched one flipper, getting used to the feel of it. It was cool and slippery, muscular yet flexible, like cartilage. A burst of air erupted from the dolphin’s blowhole and she pulled her hand away, startled.

Adam smiled. “You’re fine, you’re not hurting her. Generally, they don’t mind a human touch, although I’m sure she’s distressed right now. She’s actually amazingly calm.” He tucked two hands underneath the flesh, getting a solid grip. “Ready?”

Dana nodded, adrenaline pumping.

“On my three count. One…two…three…ROLL!” The final word came out as a strain as Adam worked to move the huge animal. Dana tucked the flipper against the dolphin’s torso. “Careful not to pin your hands beneath her,” he said. “She’s a small one, but she’s gotta weigh at least three-hundred.”

By the fourth rotation, they’d managed to get the dolphin far enough in so that she was submerged in about two inches of water with the remainder of her resting above the water’s surface. “That’s far enough,” Adam said, flopping back onto the sand and panting. “Any further in and she’ll get too dry.”

Dana collapsed next to him, her heart galloping and her breath coming hard. “Now…what?”

“Now we wait for Frankie and the rescue team. It shouldn’t be long. Once I catch my breath, I’ve got an orange flag in my truck that I’ll stick into the sand near us so they can spot our location right away.”

 “Will she be okay?”

They both sat up at the same time. Adam rested one palm flat on the flesh of the animal, his brows furrowed. “I don’t know. I hope so. I can’t see any visible injuries, but I’m not a marine biologist, just a volunteer.”

Dana gazed down directly at the dolphin’s eye and was startled by a quick chirping sound following by several random clicks. She caught her breath.

Adam chuckled. “She’s communicating with you.”

Dana reached out a hand and barely touched one resting fin. “She’s so amazing. I’ve never been anywhere near this close before. How beautiful.” She smiled and the dolphin gave another short, quiet chirp. 

“It’s a Bottlenose female. They’re the most common breed in the Chesapeake Bay, but they typically don’t beach this early in the year. I think she must’ve just gotten caught in the net and couldn’t free herself.”

“How can you tell it’s a female?”

Adam leaned in over the animal’s body and smoothed a hand down the belly. “Come here. See this? Three slits – one longer one and two smaller ones. The sex organs on dolphins are concealed. The males have one slit, closer to the center of the belly while the females have three, closer to the tail.”

She saw what he was pointing to and shook her head in amazement. “How do you know all this?”

“Pretty much the old fashioned way. After my first rescue, I just started reading everything I could get my hands on about marine life in the Bay area. I figured the more I knew, the more helpful I could be. And Frankie lends me tons of books and material.”

“What will the rescue team do with her?”

“They’ll take her back to the aquarium and do a full exam. Provide medical attention, if necessary. They’ll also photograph and tag her. That way, if she beaches again, they’ll be able to identify it as a pattern and can look into why it’s happening. If she’s well enough, they’ll rerelease her.”

She didn’t ask what happened if the dolphin wasn’t well enough. It wasn’t necessary to ask and as she looked down at the curious eye staring back up at her, she chose to assume the best possible scenario. She could certainly understand how rescuers might become attached to the animals they help.

They were quiet for a few moments and she was suddenly conscious of the fact that Adam was eyeing her awkwardly. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze. “We should, um, get you warm and dry. I have a blanket in the truck you can use, and an extra shirt to put on over…” He didn’t finish.

In the intensity of the moment, she had almost forgotten how chilled she was. Her jeans were heavy and wet and sand-covered. But when she happened to glance down at her white shirt, her breath caught in her throat. The flimsy cotton of her shirt was soaked and clinging to her, and the thin white satin bra she wore underneath did absolutely nothing to mask the fact that she was freezing cold. In fact, she might as well have been wearing nothing at all. The pink of her skin was visible beneath the nearly transparent shirt and her taut nipples pressed against the fabric like tiny pebbles. 

Her cheeks colored and her arms crossed in front of her. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath.

She felt his hand rest very briefly on her knee, reassuringly, as he pulled himself up to standing. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.”

Moses, who had been pacing and whining at the edge of the water for the entire duration of the rescue, watched Adam walk off without following, his heavy panting an indication that the dog was as exhausted as they were by the excitement. He lounged on the sand next to her and looked up with expression-filled eyes.

“Don’t you start,” she said. “How was I supposed to know white would be a bad idea?” Moses whined once, sympathetically, and placed his head down on his paws.

Adam returned at a jog, carrying a rolled up wool blanket and the shirt he had been wearing earlier. She kept one arm crossed over her breasts and reached with the other. “Thank you.” She was still blushing fiercely.

There was no proper way to get the shirt on without uncovering herself and when she did, she noticed him glance at her chest and swallow. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said, obviously trying not to smile. “If it were up to me, I’d say the hell with the extra shirt. But in a few minutes a van full of people will arrive, most of them men, and I’m guessing you might feel more comfortable with an added layer.”

She tugged his shirt on and secured two of the buttons in front over her breasts to hold it closed. The cotton felt warm and soft against her arms and it smelled like him. He unfolded the blanket and draped it over her wet legs. “You’d actually be better off removing the wet layers, but um, I don’t have any extra shorts for you to put on, so…”

“This feels good, thank you.”

“As soon as we can, we’ll head to my house and find you some dry clothes.”

She nodded, thankfully, pulling the edges of the blanket around her shoulders. He draped an arm around her and rubbed her upper arm briskly.

“I’m sorry about all this,” he said. “It wasn’t what I had in mind for tonight.”

She quirked a brow at him and suppressed a teasing smile. “What exactly did you have in mind for tonight?”

His eyes twinkled. “I had planned to woo you. Am I doing a good job?”

She giggled quietly. “Let’s see…getting soaked from head to toe in frigid water and rolling around on the sand with a huge fish-“

“Ah, dolphins aren’t fish,” he corrected with a raised finger, “they’re mammals. Fish breathe water through gills; dolphins are warm blooded and breathe air through lungs.”

“Look at you, the science geek,” she teased.

“Takes one to know one.”

She laughed out loud and he leaned in unexpectedly and captured her lips. Her eyes widened for a split second before fluttering shut. His mouth transferred heat to hers, making it perhaps the one and only warm part of her body. She entertained a fleeting thought about what other parts of his body were warmer than hers and how, exactly, that warmth might be transmitted.

When he pulled back, she inhaled a scattered breath.

“Thank you,” he said, sincerely. “For helping out. If you hadn’t been here, I’d probably still be standing out in the water, waiting for help to arrive.”

She nodded and smiled, her lips still tingling from their kiss. “This was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever done. I’m glad I was here.” His face was mere inches from hers and she was certain he was going to kiss her again when the thrumming of the surf was cut by the distinct sound of an engine.

Adam pulled to his feet and began waving his arms to signal their location. “Damn, I forgot to put up the flag. Over here! Hey! We’re over here!” Dana hopped to her feet beside him in her wet jeans and his shirt, letting the blanket drop, and Moses sprung to life again and began pacing and barking.

A navy blue, full-size, conversion van pulled down onto the sand and drove slowly closer. There were no markings of any kind on the outside to indicate that there was anything special about the large vehicle. It stopped about fifty feet from them and the back door of the van flew open. Two men and one woman, all wearing black wet suits jumped out and began jogging toward them. A fourth man, followed close behind, carrying what looked to be a case full of medical equipment. Another man and woman took up the end, pulling along a stretcher.

The first woman to reach them looked to be about thirty, fairly tall with a brunette ponytail that reached to the middle of her shoulder blades and a pretty smile. “Adam! Sorry for the hold-up -  Friday afternoon traffic heading out of the city. What’ve we got?”

“Female Bottlenose, tangled in a fishing net. Alive, with no obvious external injuries, lacerations, or contusions. She doesn’t appear to be in shock.”

“Well, that’s good, at least. It’s early for Bottlenoses to strand.”

“I know. I’m thinking she just got caught in the rope and dragged to shore. By the way, Frankie, this is my friend, Dana. She helped me get the dolphin onto the sand. Dana, this is Frankie with the Baltimore Aquarium.”

The woman extended a hand, which Dana took. “Hey, nice to meet you, Dana. Thanks for lending a hand.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

So this was Frankie. Not what she had expected.

Frankie turned toward the man with the medical equipment. “Let’s get some vitals.” The man nodded and walked off in the direction of the dolphin.

“Come on over,” Frankie offered both Adam and Dana. “Do you want to watch?” She seemed to be mostly asking Dana, whom she had accurately assessed as a new observer. Dana nodded and she and Adam followed Frankie to the animal.   

Frankie knelt down directly in front of the dolphin and ran her hands gently over the animal’s snout. “Hey Girl, it’s going to be okay. We’re going to take good care of you.”

Dana watched, fascinated, as the team of rescuers moved swiftly and carefully, checking over every inch of the dolphin and recording data on charts. Frankie seemed to be the leader of the group and the others looked to her for direction and offered information periodically. She was confident in her handling of the animal, while still being gentle and humane. At one point, she called Adam over and he knelt down beside her while she carefully opened the dolphin’s mouth and they both examined the teeth. Dana stood off to the side, watching the flurry of movement going on around her and absorbing the entire experience.

About twenty minutes into the examination, Frankie stood up and put her hands to her hips. “Okay gang, let’s get our girl onto a stretcher. Be careful of the dorsal fin. It looks okay, but we won’t know for sure until we X-ray it.”

Adam and Dana moved back out of the way and watched as four rescuers carefully lifted and moved the dolphin onto a long stretcher.

“Will she be okay out of the water for that long?” Dana asked. “For the ride to Baltimore?”

He nodded. “Dolphins breathe air, not water. They need to live in water to keep their skin hydrated, but they can survive outside of it for at least a day.”

“Will we-will we know…what happens to her?” Dana asked.

“Yeah, of course. Frankie will let me know. She’s a young dolphin – only about ten years old, so the odds are in her favor.”

They watched the stretcher get loaded into the back of the van and the rescuers jumped inside. Before the back doors closed, Frankie jogged back over to Adam and Dana. “Thanks again for your help, both of you. She looks good so far. I’ll let you know how she does.” She slapped Adam’s upper arm jovially. “I’ve got some recent articles for you. I’ll email them.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Frankie.”

They watched as the van pulled away and down the beach.   

Once the excitement was over and they were standing there by themselves again, Dana shivered and her teeth began chattering. The sky had gotten noticeably darker, just in the last half hour as the sun set. She was wet and chilled to the bone.

“Come on, let’s go get you into some dry clothes.” Adam put his arm around her and pulled her close and they walked back to the truck, Moses bounding behind them.

 

END PART FIVE


	16. Chapter 16

PART SIX

Adam’s House

She rode in the passenger seat of the pickup, cocooned in the blanket with the heat blowing full blast onto her bare feet. She didn’t think she had ever been this cold in her life. Adam had insisted that they leave her car at the docks by the hangar and he’d take her back to it later, after she’d had the chance to change her clothes. Exactly what she would put on was still a mystery. She had absolutely nothing with her, but her business suit, which was nestled in a duffel bag in the trunk of her car.

Adam’s house was only a few miles from the shore, set back off the road by a long, paved driveway and partially obscured by mature trees. Although it was fairly dark outside by the time they approached the house, she could see enough to realize that it was larger than she had anticipated and the yard it rested on was expansive and private. It was a slate blue, cape style house with black shutters and a wrap-around porch. Adam pressed a button inside the truck and a garage door went up, revealing his silver Toyota parked inside, along with a medley of sports equipment, a mountain bike, surf board, and skis. As soon as the truck came to a stop, Moses bounced out of the back and began prancing about the large yard, clearly happy to be home.

Dana got out of the truck and stretched, not bothering to put her sandals back on her bare feet. She took in the outside of the house, eyebrows raised. “It’s…nice. Really nice. Did you design the house?”

“No, although it didn’t quite look like this when I bought it. I built the porch and extended the garage, re-sided the exterior, put in all new windows, and did some structural work and painting on the inside.”

She followed him through the garage and into the house, with the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders and her sandals dangling from two fingers.  Moses padded into the kitchen and over to his food bowl where he waited patiently to be noticed and fed.

The first floor of the house was open and rustic, yet modern, with high ceilings and a great room with a hearth and huge stone fireplace. The floors were hardwood with area rugs. Oversized, dark chocolate brown leather furniture gave the living room a somewhat masculine feel. There were two end tables, each with a lamp on them and a few magazines, but other than that, the room was sparsely decorated. There was a long entertainment cabinet along one wall with a large screen TV and a stereo. The great room and kitchen flowed together, separated by an island and she could see a smaller separate dining room off of the kitchen which was, oddly enough, completely empty. If she hadn’t known better, she would have guessed that he just moved in.

The kitchen was lovely with floor-to-ceiling cherry kitchen cabinets, black modern appliances and granite countertops. It was very clean and other than one corner of the counter that was littered with unopened mail and a telephone and answering machine, mostly clutter-free. She smiled at him and arched two eyebrows, curiously.

He chuckled, as if reading her mind. “You expected the inside of my truck?”

“I don’t know what I expected,” she admitted. “I think even I have more clutter than this.”

He shrugged almost self-consciously. “I-I don’t spend a whole lot of time at home.”

She stood in the archway to the empty dining room. “You don’t eat?”

“I don’t really need a dining room. It came with the place. It’s just me and Moses and we pretty much eat in front of the TV.”

She huffed out a quiet, sympathetic laugh, sad that she understood exactly what he meant.

“Going from living in a sailboat to a three-bedroom house – there are some growing pains, I guess. I don’t need much for just me.” His warm hand brushed her upper arm. “Come upstairs and I’ll find you some dry clothes to change into.”

She followed him up the open staircase to a landing and a hallway. He headed for a room at the end and she followed, glancing left and right as she passed by three more doorways. One led into a large and mostly empty bedroom, one had a desk with a computer and bookshelves in it, and one led to a moderately-sized bathroom.

The room at the end of the hall was clearly the master bedroom and she hesitated on the threshold until he glanced back at her. “It’s okay,” he smiled. “I won’t bite.” The room was spacious, perhaps twice the size of her own bedroom, with high, beamed ceilings and two skylights. Her eyes traveled up and she teetered on her feet. “Wow,” she said, quietly.

“I put them in – the skylights,” he admitted, almost sheepishly. “I um, got used to falling asleep on the boat, looking at the stars.”

A queen size, four poster bed with a solid, dark green comforter sat in the center of the room bracketed by a knotty pine nightstand on each side. Two matching dressers lined opposite walls, one with a TV on it. The other had a stack of folded laundry sitting on top, waiting to be put away. She could tell which side of the bed he normally slept on because the nightstand next to it had an alarm clock, a pile of loose change, two books, and a coaster with a half-empty tumbler full of water. Its twin was completely empty, not even a lamp. To the back of the room was an open door leading to another bathroom. She could see a mirror, a tile floor, and a shower stall with a glass door.

Adam crossed to one dresser and pulled a dark blue tee shirt from one drawer and a pair of plaid flannel, drawstring pants from another. He presented the folded clothing to her. “Um, I hope this is okay. It’ll be big.”

She took it, gratefully. “Thank you, it’s fine. Um, where should I…”

“There’s a bathroom down the hall…or there’s one here. Wherever you’re comfortable.”

She retreated down the hall and clicked the door shut. As soon as she peeled her wet clothing from her body, she began shivering again. Deciding that rinsing off in a steamy hot shower might feel heavenly, she turned the water on and waited for it to heat up, warming her frozen toes on an off-white fluffy bath mat. She stepped into the shower, soaped up and rinsed, then stood under the steady stream of hot water until she suspected he might be wondering if she was all right.

When she stepped out and toweled off, she realized that she’d have to make due without underwear or a bra since hers were still soaking wet. She tugged on the flannel pants he’d given her and cinched the waist tightly with the drawstring before turning the bottoms up three times. They were big, like he’d said, and she felt a little silly, but they were dry, soft and comfortable. The tee shirt fell loosely and came down to her thighs, but when she glanced in the mirror, she realized that despite the roominess, it didn’t quite mask the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. She crossed her arms over her front self-consciously before sighing and allowing them to fall to her sides again in defeat. What the hell. She wasn’t putting a wet bra back on. They were both adults. She finger combed her damp hair, wrapped her wet clothing into a towel and exited the bathroom.

When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she found him in a pair of faded, worn jean with a frayed knee and a soft tee shirt, the twin to the one she wore. He was stoking a roaring fire. Besides the glow of one small table lamp, the fire provided the only light in the room. It felt cozy and warm. Soft acoustic guitar music played from the stereo.

He looked her over and smiled. “Better?”

She nodded, fingering her wet hair. “Yes, thank you. Am I wearing your pajamas?” She smirked.

“You look much better in them than I do.”

She drew closer to the fire place and he took two mugs down from on top of the hearth and handed her one. “Hot tea,” he said, and she took a grateful sip, feeling the liquid trace her esophagus and settle warmly in her belly.

“I like the music. Who is it?”

“David Gray. English singer songwriter.”

“It’s nice.” She noticed a guitar with a long strap propped on a stand next to the stereo and tipped her head toward it. “Do you still play?”

He nodded.

“Will you play something for me?”

A soft chuckle escaped him and he took another swallow from his mug. “Maybe later. I-I’m not used to playing for an audience these days – well, besides Moses and he’s pretty forgiving.”

She had a fleeting memory of him, young and self-confident, stretched out under a summer night sky and strumming, teaching himself the chords to Dust in the Wind while she listened with her eyes closed, half-clothed and wrapped in a beach blanket.

“Are you hungry? I might be able to scare up something edible around here.”

She shook her head. “No. The tea is perfect.”

Adam’s fingers snapped and he sighed as Moses eyed him with little enthusiasm from the leather sofa cushions. Grasping the dog’s collar, he tugged him gently down to the floor. “We’re still working on boundaries. It’s my fault. When it’s just the two of us here, I don’t always enforce the rules.” Moses looked at them through a wounded ego and loped to his round doggie bed in the corner of the room. 

“So he’s going to blame me for getting kicked off the furniture, then.”

“On the contrary, I think he’s quite over it.” They both smiled at the dog, who had flopped onto his side with a long groan and stretched over the length of the floor bed. He looked like one of those giant bearskin rugs.

Adam sat on the sofa and gestured for her to do the same. She curled into the cushion, folding her flannel-clad, warm legs beneath her and propping the mug of tea on them. The fire crackled and spit, casting a tangerine glow about the expansive room like a snug blanket and she sighed, contentedly.

“Are you tired?” he asked.

“Mmm, not really. Just relaxed. Your house has a peaceful feeling to it. Like some place I’ve been before, but haven’t really. It’s like…déjà vu, with walls and a roof.” She closed her eyes and rested her head against the soft, buttery leather cushion.

“It’s more space than I need, but who knows, maybe someday it won’t be.”

Her head rolled slowly toward him and she studied his face. The fire light danced off his pupils and his cheeks glowed warm and slightly pink. The stubble and the slightly tousled hair made him look a little like a bad boy, rebellious and rough, but she knew better. Those eyes. Those deep blue eyes. They ignited a fire in her belly. She could absolutely get herself in trouble if she wasn’t careful. She thought maybe she wouldn’t mind that for a change.

“You’ve made a nice life for yourself here,” she said.

He huffed and took a drink of his tea.

“You’re not happy?” she asked.

He was thoughtful for a moment. “I’m not unhappy. It isn’t exactly where I expected I’d be at thirty-five, but you know what they say about the best laid plans.”

She offered a heartfelt smile. “Where did you expect you’d be?”

He breathed deeply and shifted his position, settling more deeply into the cushions. “I guess I hoped for what most people do – marriage, a family, financial security, a job that I enjoy going to everyday-“

“You have that,” she pointed out.

“I do have that,” he agreed with a nod. “That I have. And I’m grateful.”

“But…”

“But I know there’s more. And I want that too.”

She nodded quietly and looked down, letting him know that she understood exactly how he felt without elaboration.

He cleared his throat and managed a cheerful smile, shifting the mood. “What about you?”

“What about me?” she echoed with a cautious smile and sipped at her tea.

“I don’t want to pry. It’s just that you never really say much about your life – other than your job – and I –I find myself wondering…”

“Wondering what?”

“Well, you’re brilliant, you have a great career, you’re fun to be with,” he arched two brows, “and let’s face it, you’re knock-me-on-my-ass gorgeous.”

She huffed and averted her gaze, feeling a respectable blush creep in.

“I just can’t imagine how someone hasn’t snatched you up by now. I mean, there must have been men.”

She offered a half nod, fingering the frayed hem on the plaid pants that currently warmed her bare legs. “There have been,” she admitted. “But no one serious in quite some time. Nothing that went the distance, obviously, for various reasons.” She sighed. “And in the past several years, I’ve sort of lost myself in my work and there hasn’t been room for much of anything else.”

He searched her eyes. “By choice?”

“Yes,” she answered honestly.

He nodded. “It’s easy to do. I’m down on the docks almost every day. When I can’t either work on a boat or sail one, I have a hard time figuring out what to do with myself.”

She inhaled and voiced the question that was nudging at her brain. “You don’t…you haven’t…there hasn’t been anyone since…”

He drew a deep breath. “I um, I’ve…eaten a few meals with different women.” He huffed out a nervous laugh. “And that’s about it. I’ve actually been quite a lousy date for the last couple of years.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she smiled.

“Thank you.” He chuckled. “If rolling around in freezing cold water in your clothes qualifies as a good date, then I’d hate to see what your other ones were like.”

She giggled. “Well, it was definitely one of my more interesting dates.”

“One of?”

“Well… there was the guy who was allergic to shellfish and found out there was shrimp in the egg rolls after-the-fact. We spent fourteen hours in the emergency room and missed the U2 concert.”

“Ouch.”

“Or the one who talked about his mother all through dinner, then fell asleep and drooled on my shoulder in the movie theater.”

“What movie?”

“Terminator 2.”

“How do you fall asleep during that?”

“Exactly!”

“So what you’re saying,” he grinned, “is that it’s not that this was a particularly good date, but more that the competition has been somewhat lacking. Like, you’re actually grading on a curve here, and as long as there’s no life or death situation and I manage to stay awake, then it’s a success.”

They both laughed out loud. The dog picked his head up and glanced their way to see what all the fuss was, then offered a whistling yawn and a groan before passing out once again.

“I think what I’m really saying…” she moistened her lips and looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, “is that the date’s not over yet.”

His face sobered slightly and he shifted closer to her. He took her mug of tea from her hand and placed both of theirs on the coffee table. She felt her pulse quicken and her stomach flutter. When his warm palm gently cupped her face, she closed her eyes and leaned her cheek into the softness.

His lips were sweet satin, tender, yet confident and she responded readily. This time when she opened to him, he entered without hesitation, his tongue sliding against hers and making her entire body feel liquid and supple. She wanted him to touch her everywhere and the thought scared her just a little, but not enough to keep her from arching and pressing her mouth against his harder. He didn’t retreat and the hand that wasn’t touching her face settled on her hip and squeezed lightly. A breathy moan escaped her when they switched angles and she put one hand to the back of his head and tightened through a fistful of hair.

“Oh God,” he muttered, his mouth nipping at her swollen lips. “You taste so good.”

“So do you,” she panted and he dove back into her mouth and pulled her even closer. Her nipples were hard and tight and pressed in to him through the thin material of the tee shirt. Without a bra on, there was no way he couldn’t feel it. The hand at her waist crept underneath the hem of the shirt, hot and solid against her stomach. Her head swam and moisture pooled between her thighs. My God, she was wearing his pajama pants and no panties and she was so aroused she couldn’t think.

He continued kissing the hell out of her as she desperately resisted the urge to slide into his lap. When his thumb brushed against her bare nipple, she jumped, the jolt of stimulation causing her to release his lips with a reluctant moan.

His hand slid back down below her breast and he searched her eyes. “Too much?”

She shook her head, trying to catch her breath and manage a clear thought. “No. I don’t know, maybe. I-I can’t stay.”

He nodded, and kissed her jawline tenderly, then the slope of her neck and behind her ear. “Okay. We’ll stop.”

She tilted her head and her eyes fluttered closed again. God, it felt so good. When he planted a final kiss on her mouth and then her hand, she felt nothing but overwhelming regret at her unfortunate choice. She wanted nothing more than to give in to the cravings of eager flesh and ignore the fact that she had an hour long drive home and work to do in the morning.

“I’m sorry, Adam.”

He smiled at her tenderly. “For what? For giving me the best kiss I’ve had in years?”

“It’s not that I don’t want-“ she sighed. “I have work to do on the case in the morning.”

He cupped her face again gently and looked into her eyes. “It’s okay. There’s no hurry.”    

She nodded, still more than a little conflicted and aroused. He shifted on the cushions and she noticed the prominent bulge in the front of his jeans and she responded with a sharp inhale and a fierce blushing. He didn’t miss it and chuckled in embarrassment, lightening the mood. “Not exactly subtle, is it?”

She closed her eyes and couldn’t help a quiet, sympathetic laugh.   

He got up to tend the fire and she excused herself to the bathroom, needing just a moment to herself to regain control. When she looked in the mirror above the vanity, she almost didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her. Her hair was damp and fell in soft, tangled waves around her face, and her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were plumped and berry pink, like ripened fruit, and her tongue swept them self-consciously. Without makeup covering her freckles, she looked young and natural, almost radiant. The slick and swollen feeling between her thighs was more than a little embarrassing, but not enough to keep her from imagining what it would feel like to have him pushing into her. She bit back the desire and cleaned herself up before returning to the living room to find him tightening the strings on his guitar, concentrating with a pick trapped between his lips.

“Promise you’ll be gentle,” he said, strumming a chord. “Like I said, my usual audience now doesn’t offer much in the way of constructive criticism.” As if in response, Moses lifted his head long enough to blink sleepily at her and yawn before closing his eyes again, utterly disenchanted. “If I’m any good, you might be able to recognize this song,” he said, fingering a few notes hesitantly before starting to strum.

She settled herself cross-legged onto the sofa and listened to him play. Her brows rose slightly as she watched him fall into the comfortable rhythm of the song and she realized that he was being far too modest. He was quite good, very good in fact. The improvement from years ago was notable and dramatic. His foot tapped gently with the slow and lazy beat and his arm muscles flexed enticingly as he transitioned chords. She found herself wondering if there was anything hotter than a man with dreamy blue eyes, bare feet, and frayed jeans playing Bob Dylan for her on the guitar. So much for tempering her arousal.

The song ended and he carefully placed the instrument back on its stand before looking at her sheepishly.

“What do I get if I guess correctly?” she asked, suggestively.

His smile was equally playful. “What do you want?”

“Hmm…” she smiled. “A ride…I think…”

He coughed and arched two brows.

“…on your boat,” she finished.

He exhaled. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door.”

“Very good.”

“You play really well,” she said. “Better than you give yourself credit for.”

“And you’re kind. But thank you.”

The dog got up, stretched, and walked out of the room toward the kitchen. Adam sighed, watching him go. “Not everyone’s a Dylan fan.”

She chuckled. “Perhaps he was hoping for something by Three Dog Night.” Adam opened his mouth in an exaggerated laugh at her ill attempt at humor.

He stood and walked to the stereo to insert a CD. “Actually, he likes Neil Young. Old Man is his favorite, but I’m partial to Harvest Moon. It’s easier to dance to.” He offered her his hand as the song started and she felt just a little bit silly letting him pull her into a slow sway, pressed tightly against him in pajamas and bare feet. But his hand was warm at the small of her back and she relaxed and draped her arms around his neck. In bare feet, she only came up to his chest. She pressed her cheek to his soft shirt and he bent to nuzzle her hair. He smelled familiar and spicy and masculine.    

His thumb grazed her cheek tenderly and before she knew it, they were kissing again, his hands up the back of her shirt and tracing whisper light circles on her bare skin. She whimpered when his tongue darted into her mouth. The swaying stopped. His erection prodded the flat of her belly and she knew if she didn’t leave now, she wasn’t going.

Their mouths parted and he leaned into her, eyes hooded and lips chasing hers. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“I need to go.” Her voice sounded reluctant and uncertain, even to her.

He swallowed and nodded. “Yes. You do. If you’re going to.”

They separated and he kissed her forehead sweetly. “Come on and I’ll give you a ride back to your car.” She nodded and straightened her hair with her palms, still catching her breath.

They were quiet in the truck, listening to the radio. It was only a little after ten, but it seemed like a lifetime ago that they had shared a pizza on the dock.

He glanced at her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded reassuringly. “I’m fine.”

“I didn’t mean to…I’m usually not so…” He sighed. “Did I overstep?”

 “Adam.” She smiled, amused, and reached for his hand. “It’s okay. Really. I’m a grown woman.”

“I know. I just don’t want you to think that all I want-“ He leveled her with a sincere look. “I like spending time with you. It doesn’t have to be anything else.”

She squeezed his hand. “If I’m not mistaken, you still owe me that ride on your boat.”

He perked up and smiled, hopefully. “Whenever you want.”

“Well, tomorrow is Saturday. And I have some case work to do in the morning, but maybe in the afternoon, if it’s nice-“

“Tomorrow afternoon is great,” he jumped in. “It’s supposed to be even warmer than today. Should be a good day to sail.”

She rooted through her purse for her cell phone. “I’ll call Mulder. He’s supposed to pick me up in the morning and I’ll need to drive my own car instead.” She hit speed dial and listened as it went straight to voice mail. The recording told her that Mulder’s messages were full. “Damn,” she muttered under her breath.

“What’s the matter?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just that I can’t reach Mulder to tell him not to pick me up. His messages are full.”

“It’s no big deal. I can just give you a ride home tomorrow when we’re done sailing.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose. It’s an hour drive each way, Adam.”

He smiled. “Another hour I get to spend with you. And I get to see your apartment.”

She tossed him a sidelong glance. “Who says I plan to invite you up?”

He put a hand to his chest and clicked his tongue as if wounded. “Ooh, she cuts me deep.”

She huffed out a laugh and smirked at him. “Maybe if you’re on your best behavior.”

“If I’m good?”

“If you’re good.”

He toggled two brows at her. “Guess you won’t find that out unless you invite me up.”

Her mouth opened and her face colored. “Adam Hartman,” she whispered reproachfully, eyes wide and biting her lip in amusement.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “You served that one up on a silver platter.”

She shook her head slowly and smiled.

When they reached her car, he gave her a hug and a quick peck on the lips and made her promise to call and let him know she got home safely. She drove all the way with the windows down and the radio loud, wearing his clothes and singing off-key.

 

*******


	17. Chapter 17

Mulder showed up almost an hour late the next morning looking like something the cat dragged in. When she opened the door, already wearing her coat, he walked past her into the apartment. “Hi. Sorry I’m late. You wouldn’t happen to have any coffee made, would you?”

She eyed him for a good half a minute until he quirked an eyebrow at her and raised his palms in a ‘what’s the problem’ gesture. “In the kitchen. There’s a clean travel mug in the strainer.”

“Thanks.”

“You look like hell, Mulder.”

“I got home late and didn’t get much sleep.”

“I tried to reach you several times, but your messages are full.”

He pulled his phone from his coat pocket and started pressing buttons while taking a long swallow of coffee. “Sorry. What did you want?”

She sighed and picked up her duffel bag and purse. “Never mind. We should get on the road. I’ll drive so you can sleep.”

He nodded. “What’s with the bag?”

“Nothing. I…had to borrow a change of clothes from Adam.”

He stopped walking and stared down at the bag, expressionless. “You seem to have a strange fetish for borrowing this man’s clothing, Scully.”

“Mulder,” she warned.

“I’m just wondering what’s so special about them, what I’m missing. Do you think he’d loan me something if I asked nicely?” His tone was unapologetic and laced with sarcasm.

She met his eyes straight on. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Adam got a call about a beached dolphin late yesterday afternoon. He invited me along and I went. We were able to stabilize the animal until rescuers arrived. My clothing got soaked and he was nice enough to let me borrow something to drive home in.”

Mulder’s brows went to his hairline. “He… just happens to rescue marine life in his spare time.”

“He helps when he can, yes.”

After a long pause, he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair and huffed before making his way out the apartment door. “That just figures,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She followed him to the elevator where he punched the lobby button four times in quick succession and rocked on his heels impatiently.

“I was just thinking, Scully. It might be a good idea for you to travel with a few extra changes of clothing from now on.”

She tossed him a bewildered and impatient look.

“You know,” he continued, “so you’re prepared for when Adam has to rescue baby kittens out of trees or feed homeless lepers or put out forest fires.”

He exited the elevator without a backwards glance. She stood there frozen with her hands on her hips until the doors started to close before stalking off after him.

 

*******

By noon, it was eighty degrees and Scully was cursing black pants and government sedans with sluggish air conditioning. Her bra and underwear were sticking to her like Saran Wrap. They had had five different, but equally useless conversations with five different jewelers. None remembered selling a heart shaped ring with a red stone during the last few months.

“What do you want for lunch?” he asked, idly rapping his knuckles against the dash. Why did he have to do that? Was it so hard to sit still while she drove? He was a ball of nervous energy. She wanted to give him an IV of ritalin.

“Something decent.”

“You just passed the third Taco Bell in the past ten miles.”

She wrinkled her nose.

“Fine. Whatever you want.” The passenger seat was back as far as it would go and his knees still pressed into the glove box. “Eighty-three degrees in April, Scully. There might be something to all this global warming hogwash after all.”

She shook her head at him. “It’s not hogwash, Mulder. We have scientific evidence.”

“Yeah well, all the science geeks used to insist the world was flat too and look where that went.” His cell phone chirped and he pulled it out and looked at it, then silenced the ring. It was the third time he’d done that.

“You can answer it, you know.”

“It’s Diana.”

Now there was news.

“I’m helping her on a case. She knows I’m working here for the first half of the day, though. I told her that.”

“Well, it would seem we’re at a stalemate for the day here,” she said, pulling into the parking lot of a TCBY. “You might as well call her back.”

“TCBY?”

“You said get what I want. I want frozen yogurt.”

“For lunch?”

“I’m hot. If you want Taco Bell, I’ll do a drive-thru,” she sighed.

He unbuckled and got out to stretch, looking around. “There’s a hot dog place across the street. I’ll be right back.” His phone chirped again and this time he flipped it open. “Mulder,” he said, impatiently.

She rifled through her purse for her wallet, taking a little longer than absolutely necessary.

“No, I didn’t get the messages. We’ve been on the road all morning working this case. No. Not really no. I told you that last night, Diana.”

Scully dropped her purse, spilling the contents on the asphalt and swearing under her breath.

“I didn’t say that. I said I’d try and I will. We’re grabbing some lunch and then I think we’re knocking off for the day. Leave me a message when you figure out where you’ll be in a few hours and I’ll catch up. Okay, bye.”

Scully hastily finished scooping up a lipstick, some loose change, a couple of pens and a tampon and shoved them back into her purse before slamming the car door and walking off.

“Hey, do you want a hot dog?” he called out. “Scully?”

 

*******

 

 Adam pulled up in front of the sheriff’s office to pick her up exactly eight minutes after she called his cell phone. She stood outside and waited for him, wishing for at least the second time in a week that she still had an emergency cigarette squirreled away in her purse, like she used to for a year after she quit.

“Hey,” he said with a big smile when she jumped into the cab of the truck, then immediately tempered his enthusiasm when he saw her ‘get me the hell out of here’ expression.

“Do you smoke?”

He arched a brow at her. “No.” They took off in the direction of the waterfront.

“Neither do I, but I could go for a cigarette right about now.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Mulder just-I can’t even-it’s like he-“

“Slow down and take a breath.”

She huffed and reached for the temperature dial on the dash of the truck, cranking up the air conditioning. “God, that feels good.”

Adam was quiet and continued watching her.

“This case is going nowhere and there’s a lot of work to be done. That part’s frustrating, but we’ve been there before. I don’t know why this time we can’t seem to get ourselves on the same page. He’s dividing his time between two cases because he’s helping out his-his-his, I don’t know, girlfriend-”

“I thought you said he didn’t have a girlfriend.”

“I don’t know. She’s…someone he used to be with and now…I don’t know what hell she is and I don’t care, but he needs to get himself dialed in on this case.”

“Uh huh.”

She inhaled deeply and managed a tight smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload on you like that.”

“It’s okay.” He reached for her hand. “Kind of sounds like an afternoon of sea air might be just what you need, sailor.”

They parked the truck and he carried her duffel bag for her onto the boat. Moses, who had been there waiting for them, greeted her with a friendly bark and a wagging tail. “There a room down below in the cabin for you to change your clothes,” he said. “Watch your step on the stairs.”

The sailboat was quite large, bigger than it looked from a distance and she marveled at the beautiful workmanship. The polished wood of the deck gleamed. She followed him down a short, narrow staircase into the living quarters of the boat, her eyes taking it all in.

He set her bag down on a bench against one wall. “Well, this is it. My home away from home, I guess you could say.”

She took a quick visual inventory of her surroundings. There was a kitchenette along one side, complete with counters, appliances, small cupboards, and a sink. A booth-style table with two benches provided eating space and there were also three stools pushed up to a center island. The opposite side of the cabin had a loveseat sized sofa and a wall-mounted TV.  To the back of the sitting area was what looked to be a small bedroom and an adjacent bathroom. It was like a tiny studio apartment with all the amenities.

She walked over and ran a hand along the kitchen counter top. “This is amazing, Adam. I can’t believe you built all this.”

He shrugged modestly. “I just combined the blueprints from a few different boats that I liked and adjusted for my needs. It’s small, but adequate. Did you eat lunch? I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry, so I stocked the fridge. There are sandwich fixings and some fresh fruit. I can…make you something while you change your clothes, if you’d like.”

She crossed her arms and spun around to regard him, a smile planted on her mouth. He shifted in his cargo shorts and tee shirt and looked a bit like a deer caught in the headlights. “What?” he asked, tentatively.

“You got me food?”

He nodded. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Oh.”

 “But thank you,” she said, taking a couple of steps closer to him. “That was really sweet.” Without hesitation, she embraced him and her lips captured his. It was a sweet kiss and his head tilted for more substantial contact as her hand caressed his back.

When they separated, his face spread into a smile. “You’re very, very welcome.”

She had no idea why she was touched by the fact that he bought her turkey and provolone and fresh strawberries just in case she was hungry. It was silly really. Perhaps it was the sheer thoughtfulness of it and that it just felt nice to have someone want to take care of her for a change. She didn’t realize that she had been standing there just staring into his eyes until he cleared his throat and gestured toward her bag of clothes with his hand. “Do you want to, um…”

“Yes,” she replied. “Just give me a few minutes.”

“Take your time. There’s a pocket door on the bedroom. I’ll just, um, wait up on deck and get the lines tied up.”

She took her bag into the bedroom and slid the door closed before stripping down and changing into a pair of khaki shorts and her navy blue bikini top that she had debated about bringing when she packed her bag that morning. She tugged on a purple fitted tee shirt over the bikini top and then applied a layer of 50 SPF to every visible inch of Irish skin. Feeling a rush of boldness, she peeled the tee shirt off over her head, then thought twice about it and put it back on. Maybe later.

 

*******


	18. Chapter 18

It had been over ten years since she’d sailed, but she was surprised at how quickly it all came back to her. Adam was patient, offering gentle reminders when necessary, but for the most part, she managed on her own. About an hour into their sail, her confidence returned, she got her sea legs back and it was as if no time had passed at all. They worked well together, moving about the boat in tandem. Adam was a natural, operating his boat with ease. He looked happy and carefree, like he was truly in his element.

As the day wore on, the sun got hotter and she watched as he peeled his shirt off and tossed it aside. She did her best not to stare, but sweet Jesus, he was one beautiful man. Muscles rippling under sun-kissed, golden skin and a trail of sparse hair leading south under the waistband of his low-slung shorts to what she was certain must be paradise.

He caught her staring and her eyes darted away, feigning sudden interest in the distant horizon and drawing a deep breath of salty sea air. He moved in closer to her, reaching around her to grab two bottles of water from a cooler and offering her one. She accepted it gratefully, twisting the cap off.

“It’s a warm day,” he said, smiling like the cat that ate the canary. He was standing so close that she could feel the warmth of his arm near hers. 

Without a doubt, she was wearing a blush that lit up her cheeks like Christmas. “Yes, it is.”

In a ‘now or never’ moment of daring, she exhaled and followed his lead, grasping the bottom hem of her shirt and lifting it over her head. She felt suddenly very exposed and had to fight her natural tendency toward modesty, discreetly reached behind her back to check the strings on her bikini top. So much responsibility riding on just two small knots. The warm breeze tickled her bare skin.

In an attempt to mask her self-consciousness, she moved with casual confidence and started trimming the sails. When she paused to glance up, she found him watching her every move in rapt attention. His eyes raked over her body without reserve and her breath caught in her throat. “We need to bear off, we’re starting to luff,” she called above the wind. He stared without reacting for a moment, his eyes steel blue and captivated.  

“Adam!” She laughed at him, but the wind carried her voice away.

He snapped out of it and shook his head. “Sorry, what?”

“I said we need to bear off. We’re starting to luff a bit. Can you give me a hand with the main sail?”

“Right. Yeah.” He came up behind her and grabbed onto the rope, his muscular arms engulfing her. “You do know how to distract a man.” She heard the amusement in his tone.

 His bare chest pressed into her back and the heat felt scorching and dangerous. As he flexed his muscles, working the rope, she felt every single one of his movements ripple through her body like aftershocks.

As soon as the main sail was in position, his arms relaxed around her and she felt the tickle of his fingers just barely skim her lower back, circling her tattoo. “Well what do we have here?” His voice was a hum in her ear, his tone curiously awed. “When I said I doubted that anything you’d do would surprise me – I might have to eat my words.”

She tried to pass it off with an amused and nonchalant huff. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh, it’s something. It’s sexy as hell, is what it is.” The pads of his fingers traced and wandered while his other hand rested enticingly at her hip. “When?”

 “A couple of years ago. It was a moment of impulsiveness during a strange time in my life.”

He smoothed his warm hand over the plain of her back. “It’s…beautiful. The colors and detailing - I might need a closer look.” His voice was a tease in her ear and she felt his breath walk all the way down her skin. He crouched and planted a soft, gentle kiss to her lower back and she shuddered. “Mmm, you smell good, like coconuts.”

She giggled and arched away from him, his touch tickling her skin. “It’s the sunscreen. I hope you remembered yours,” she said, the inevitable doctor-speak creeping in.

His sheepish look told her all she needed to know. She bent and reached into a canvas tote back on the deck, retrieving her bottle of 50 spf. “No argument,” she instructed, making a spinning motion with her index finger.

He smiled and hung his head, turning his back to her obediently.

She applied the lotion with diligence, smoothing her small hands over every inch and crevice of his toned back, being extra careful not to miss a spot. When she was finished, she spun him to face her and started in on the front. His chest rose and fell under her hands and when her nail grazed the edge of his nipple, she felt his breath hitch and his pectoral muscle tighten in response. She spent longer than necessary, but he appeared in no hurry for her to stop. 

When the job was done to her satisfaction, she met his eyes and smiled. “That should do it.”

“I don’t know, I think you might have missed a spot.”

Her brows furrowed and her head dipped, searching him carefully. “Where?” she challenged. He chuckled and edged his finger under her chin, lifting her face to his. His lips were gentle, but hungry and her eyes fluttered shut, breathing in the sweet tropical scent of coconut. She felt his hands close around her waist, his thumbs circling her skin and leaving trails of heat behind them. When they finally separated, she felt lightheaded and leaned into him, craving the familiar solid warmth.

The contents of the refrigerator came in handy later in the day when her appetite finally caught up with her. They carried plates full of sandwiches and fruit up to the deck and devoured them, hungry from the activity and the fresh ocean air. When they were sated, they stood on the deck together, watching the late day sun head for the horizon. He stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her in an embrace, their bodies swaying gently with the movement of the boat.

“Do you remember,” she started almost shyly, “that first time? How young we were?”

He smiled and planted a soft kiss to her silky crown. “How could I forget? You were so beautiful and I was terrified. I wanted it to be good for you.”

Her smile was wistful and reminiscent. “It was good. It was perfect.”

He chuckled. “It was fast.”

She bit her lip in amusement. “Maybe just a little.”

“You’re being kind. I wanted you so badly.” His mouth was just behind her ear lobe, wet and hot, and she caught her breath.

The moment lingered, the air thick and heady between them. She composed herself and clearing her throat. “We’d better get back. It’s getting dark.”

He inhaled and patted her hips affectionately before releasing her. “You’re right.” 

Once the boat was secured and the sails were down, he followed her below deck to put away the remaining food and tidy up. She felt wonderfully relaxed, like only a day on the water can do. It had been one of the best days she’d had in awhile and she didn’t want it to end.

“Should we leave all this food in the fridge or do you want to take it to your house?” she asked, plucking one last strawberry from the carton.

“We can leave it. Pete, Deacon, and I will eat it for lunch Monday.”

Hoisting herself up onto the counter top with her arms, she sat and nibbled at the strawberry, swinging her bare feet.

He smirked at her. “That looks tasty. You gonna eat that all by yourself?”

She sucked some juice off her fingertip with a lingering tongue. “Maybe,” she teased, her voice sweet like honey. “Why? You gonna help?”

Before she even finished biting through the berry, he was on her, his mouth attacking hers, hands in her hair. He bit into the fruit, stealing half from her. Juice flowed down her chin and neck and over the pale mound of her breast, peeking out from the top of her bikini. Their mouths separated with a pop and she looked into his eyes, licking her bottom lip. “You’d better get that.”

She could actually see him shudder. “Oh my God,” he moaned, tracing the wet tip of his tongue along her sticky pink skin. Her back arched and he lapped at her cleavage, tucking two hands under her ass and lifting her to half walk, half stumble across the room. The intended destination was likely the loveseat, but they didn’t make it that far. He swept a book, a sweatshirt, and something that clattered off the table and onto the floor, depositing her with as much grace as his lust-riddled brain could manage. He devoured her mouth, his hands traveling every inch of her body while her tiny fingers yanked hard at the button on his shorts.

The heel of his hand pressed into her through the thin material of her shorts and she cried out and bit his bottom lip a little. Her thighs fell open and she ground herself against him. “Take them off,” she panted. “Please just…oh God…”

She had managed to disengage him from the remainder of his clothing in record time and was rubbing the flat of her palm against the rock hard ridge of his cock. The skin there felt like satin, whisper thin, sliding loosely over rigid muscle. Her cheeks were on fire and she was dizzy as hell. He tugged her shorts and panties to her knees almost roughly and she kicked free from them. He thumbed her clit and she moaned loudly, her eyes drifting closed and fingernails scoring his upper back. She was literally about a dozen strokes away from flying already. My God, this never happened to her.

He entered her slowly and carefully at first, his tongue stroking hungrily against hers. Her hands slid down to grasp his buttocks and pull him in deep, desperate to feel every inch of him. They moved against each other hard and fast, her legs slung tightly around him, heels clasped at his lower back, hips pumping forward to meet his every thrust. She could hear the slap of skin on skin, forceful and rhythmic, and it only fueled her desire. They were a tangle of wet, slippery limbs. This was lust and passion in its most basic form and she gave in to it completely.

When her release came, she gave a breathy yelp and clung to him, her mouth open against his bare shoulder. He gritted his teeth against her temple. “Oh my God you’re so beautiful. You’re coming right now, aren’t you? Oh God, I can feel it.” He sped up and pumped into her hard and fast for half a dozen more strokes. “Should I pull out?” he asked frantically, a brief look of panic on his face.

She shook her head. “No…it’s...I’ve got it covered.” The words were barely out of her mouth when he groaned loudly and stiffened, pitched forward and catching his weight on his palms before falling onto her. She felt the contractions, the surging, and the rush of fluid. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a breathless kiss.

 

*******

 

She lay with one arm bent beneath her head, his naked body curled around hers, embracing her from behind. Somehow in their post-coital haze, they had made it to the bed and folded themselves into the cool, smooth sheets. It was dusk outside now and the cabin of the boat was shadowy and dim. The waves rocked them from side to side, the wooden frame creaking and settling.

He skimmed fingers along her bare arm from elbow to wrist and kissed her shoulder. “Stay with me tonight.” he said.

She sighed, contentedly. “Mmm, okay. Here?”

“Or at the house. Wherever you want.”

“I like it here.”

“I’m glad. I thought you would. You’ve got seawater in your veins, like I do.”

 “It’s been so long.”

He smiled a little and questioned her with his eyes.

“I meant since I’ve sailed,” she said. “But…now that you mention it….”

He planted a kiss to her shoulder. “You know, I never knew back then…if you…during sex. I mean, I knew you did when I used my hand, but when it came to actual intercourse, I was pretty much clueless.”

She smiled in the dark. “So if I tell the truth, will I have to deal with a bruised ego?”

He groaned. “I think you just did tell the truth.”

She brushed her cheek against his affectionately. “We were both pretty clueless and I was so young. To be honest, I don’t think it ever really happened for me during sex until much later. So…don’t take it personally. Women are complicated.”

He chuckled. “Don’t I know it.”

“Well, you seem to have figured out a few things in the past decade and a half because that was incredible. I hope you weren’t wondering…this time.”

“Uh, no. The message came through loud and clear.”  

He kissed her lazily and nuzzled her neck. Can I ask you something then? Why bother with birth control? I mean, if you haven’t been…with anyone in a long time?”

She stiffened a little. “What do you mean?”

“Earlier. You said that you had it covered. I just figured you meant...you know, you were on the pill or something.”

She inhaled long and deep, then let it out. “Adam, I, um…” She sighed again, hesitating.

He propped himself on an elbow and coaxed her over onto her back so he could make eye contact. “What? What is it?” His voice was tender, quiet, and concerned.

“I…I can’t have children.” She sniffed once, mentally willing herself not to tear up, damn it. Every time she thought she had a handle on her infertility, the emotions reared their ugly head.

He was quiet for a long moment and she had no idea what he was thinking. They had known each other for almost forever, but still. This week had moved so quickly and she hadn’t really given much thought to what the future might hold for them, if anything. It had seemed ridiculously premature to bring it up. But now – she could imagine this was unexpected. He had mentioned the desire for children, a family. She didn’t want to get ahead of herself, but it certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that this information could someday matter.

“Dana, I’m sorry.” The back of his hand brushed her cheek. “I had no idea.”

“Of course not. How could you? It’s okay. I’ve had some time to deal with it.”

He nodded. “Certainly there must be options…”

“Yes. There are. Expensive ones with no guarantees. And maybe someday I will decide to pursue one of them.”

He drew a long breath. “You know what I think?”

“What?” she asked warily, not meeting his eyes.

“Someday you’ll have a child.”

She huffed and swiped a hand at her wet cheek. “Adam-“

“You will. I just…I don’t know, I feel it. Since when have you ever backed down from a challenge?” He kissed her forehead and lingered there for a moment. “You shouldn’t give up on it.”

She sighed and let him just hold onto her.

They drifted for long while, wrapped around each other, somewhere in that strange realm between wakefulness and sleep, until she was startled by the sound of heavy footsteps above. Someone was walking around up on deck.

“Adam,” she whispered, shaking his arm gently.

“Mmmm…”

“Wake up! There’s someone on the boat.”

He shot upright. “Shit.” Sliding out from the covers, he felt around on the floor for something to put on, but all their clothing was still strewn about the cabin where it had been recklessly abandoned during their frantic coupling. He located a towel and wrapped it around his waist. “Stay here.”

She sat up, pulling the sheet tightly across her bare breasts. “Wait!”

“Yeah?”

“My black bag is somewhere on the floor. My gun is in it.”

 “What! You’ve got a gun? Here?”

She fumbled about the floor, squatting in her sheet, until she located her bag, unzipping it. “Jesus, Adam, of course I have a weapon! I’m an FBI agent!”

The footsteps were now making their way down the staircase in heavy clomps. She steadied her gun and aimed it at the empty doorway as a tall shadowy figure rounded the corner.

“That’s far enough!” she demanded, authoritatively. “Federal Agent! Show your hands!”

“Whoa, whoa! Hey, don’t shoot,” an alarmed voice said, arms raised.

“Deacon?” said Adam, flipping on a light and squinting in nothing but a towel around his waist. “Holy shit man, you scared the hell out of us. It’s late, what’re you doing here?”

Deacon’s eyes widened as he took in the scene. Dana exhaled and lowered her gun, clutching the sheet tighter to her body. She flushed fiercely.   

“I left my jacket in the hangar. Laney and I were heading down to the Bluewater to hear a band and we swung by to get it. I saw your truck parked outside. Moses was hanging out on the deck of the boat, but there was no sign of you. Just thought I’d check and make sure everything was okay.” He suppressed a knowing smile and shifted his footing. “I can see you’re good, so I’ll just, um,-“

“Deac?” a female voice called from the deck. “Deacon, where are you?” More footsteps now, coming down the stairs.

“Down here, Babe.”

A petite blonde in jeans, heels and a leather jacket arrived at the bottom of the stairs and peeked inside, cautiously.

“Hey Laney,” said Adam with an exhausted sigh. “Join the party.”

Laney smiled and snapped her gum. “Hey guys. What’s going on?” Then she caught sight of Dana, standing there in a sheet, holding a gun at her side, and the girl’s mouth dropped open. “Wow, what’s up with the piece?”

Adam held his towel on with one hand and gestured with his other. He glanced at Dana, apologetically. “Dana, this is Deacon’s girlfriend, Elaine-“

“Laney,” she corrected, smiling big and stepping forward with an outstretched hand, like it wasn’t totally weird to shake hands with a woman wearing nothing but a bed sheet and holding a gun.

“Laney, this is my-my-this is Dana,” said Adam. “She’s uh, an FBI agent.”

Laney’s eyes widened. “Like for real?”

Dana offered a tight-lipped, but polite smile. “For real.”

“Cool! You in trouble there, Adam?” Laney giggled.

Deacon smirked and coughed into his hand. “Not that kind,” he mumbled.

Adam cleared his throat and shifted.

Deacon took the hint. “So we’re gonna just, um…” He pointed toward the stairs and steered Laney by the elbow.

“Hey! You guys want to go with us?” Laney asked, excitedly. “Disorderly Conduct is playing at the Bluewater.”

Adam looked down uncomfortably.

“Let’s go, Babe,” said Deacon, trying to get Laney moving. “I think they’re, um…busy.”

Awareness arrived for Laney. “Oh Riiiight,” she snorted. “Maybe another time then! So nice to meet you!” Deacon all but pushed Laney up the stairs, glancing back at Adam and mouthing the word, “Sorry,” with a pained expression.

“See ya Monday,” Adam muttered.

“’Night, Dana.” Deacon called back. “Sorry.”

They stood there staring at the staircase for several minutes, listening to footsteps fade on the deck above. “Well, that was awkward,” said Adam. Then he took her hand and led her back to bed.

*******

 The first time she awoke, it was still dark out. The first murky rays of dawn were not quite visible as she stumbled into semi-consciousness to his lips, light as a feather, traveling up her bare shoulder, then the slope of her neck. She smiled sleepily without opening her eyes and rolled onto her back, breathing deep. “Time is it?”

 “Too early,” he whispered, nosing at her nipple gently. “Sorry to wake you, but I had the best dream.”

“Mmm, really?”

“It involved you. On a horse. And these.” He cupped one breast, kneading tenderly while his mouth latched onto the other.

She inhaled sharply feeling her nipples harden. “What a crazy dream.”

His response was muffled by her flesh, pressed against his working mouth. “Mm, seemed so real. Almost like it had happened before.”

She tugged his head up to kiss him, then coaxed him over onto his back and straddled him, sliding down on his morning erection.

“Jeeeeeesus,” he said in one long exhale as she started rocking on him.

 

*******

The second time she awoke was far less pleasant. The trill of her cell phone roused her and she reached blindly for her nightstand before realizing she wasn’t at home. Struggling out from his warm embrace, she squatted down on the floor and rooted around inside her duffel bag. It was light out now and she sensed that it had been hours since they’d last made love, but she had no idea what time it was. She felt sticky between her thighs.

“Scully.” Her voice was hoarse from sleep.

There was a pause on the other end, then “Scully? It’s me, did I wake you up?”

She never slept this late, even on a Sunday. It felt dangerously amazing. “Um, it’s okay. What time is it?”

“A little after ten. Are you feeling all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What’s going on?”

“I just got off the phone with Sheriff Fletcher. He ran the name Eli Harrington and guess what? Neil Bishop’s mother’s maiden name was Harrington.”

Her eyes widened as she became more alert. “The name Eli is close to Neil, Mulder.”

“Bingo.”

 “You think Amy Rhodes was seeing Neil Bishop, Henry’s father?”

“It fits. She worked for him and there was definitely opportunity. And he drives a 1997 black Jeep Grand Cherokee.”

She was silent, struggling to process what Mulder was telling her.

“We’re meeting Fletcher at the Bishop’s place. He’s getting another search warrant for the house. I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”

“Wait, I-I’ll meet you there.”

“Scully, your apartment is right on my way. It’s not a problem. If you need more time, I’ll just stop off and-“

“I’ll meet you there, Mulder. Okay? Just-just go ahead.”

“Okay,” he conceded, “whatever you want.”

She hung up the phone and sighed, then went to sit on the edge of the small bed. Adam was awake, his hair ruffled like duck feathers and a twisted sheet around his naked waist. The entire room smelled like sex. He reached for her arm, tugging her down next to him. “Let me guess, you don’t have time for breakfast in bed.”

“And I have a really big favor to ask. Can I borrow your car?”

She cleaned up as best as she could in the tiny cabin bathroom, finger combed her hair, and dressed quickly in yesterday’s work clothes. Adam drove her to his house where he gave her the keys to his Toyota, a strong cup of coffee, and a long kiss. She made it to the Bishop’s house ahead of Mulder.

END PART SIX


	19. Chapter 19

PART SEVEN

Home of Neil, Sarah, and Henry Bishop

Mulder pulled into the Bishop’s driveway and parked next to the Sheriff’s cruiser and behind a silver Camry. Scully’s car was nowhere in sight, so she must still be on the road. She’d hemmed and hawed again when he’s offered to pick her up, as if he was too stupid to figure out that she wanted her car so she could take off to go see *him* after they were finished. Jesus Christ, she’d just gone out with him the day before; couldn’t she take a day off from Adam worshipping?  Mulder had obviously woken her up when he called. It annoyed him more than it should, knowing how late she must’ve gotten home the night before for Scully to sleep past ten on a Sunday.

The front door was ajar and there were cops everywhere when he got inside. A search team was turning the small living room inside-out. Mulder held up his badge and made his way through the mess, exchanging professional nods. “Sheriff Fletcher here?” he asked a detective who looked like he might know what was going on.

“In the kitchen, the last I checked,” said the detective. “He’s with your other agent.”

Mulder frowned. “What other agent? FBI?”

“Yeah, short redhead.”

That’s weird. How the hell did she get there so fast? He had already been on the road when he phoned her and he didn’t even stop off for coffee.

He rounded the corner into the kitchen. Scully was seated at the kitchen table with Neil and Sarah Bishop. Sheriff Fletcher stood with crossed arms in front of the sink. He nodded to Mulder.

Neil Bishop’s voice was shaky and he kept looking at his wife, who sat motionless with a fixed expression. “This is ridiculous. I don’t know what you think you’re going to find here. The police already searched our house once. All you’re managing to do is upset my wife and son after all they’ve been through. I was not having an affair with Amy Rhodes. She was a kid, for Christ’s sake.”

“Amy was seventeen years old, Mr. Bishop,” said Scully. “By law, she was a consenting adult. No one is accusing you of statutory rape. But evidence suggests that Amy was seeing an older man at the time of her death and it’s possible that whoever it was may have information pertinent to our investigation. If that man was you, Mr. Bishop, you’d do well to tell us the truth now.”

“Am I being accused of murder?”

“No,” said Scully. “Right now you are not.”

Sarah Bishop’s lip quivered and she pushed back from the table to stand. Neil placed a hand on her arm and she flinched and jerked away, refusing to make eye contact with her husband. “I’ll be upstairs with Henry,” she said, stalking away. Mulder turned sideways in the doorway to the kitchen, allowing her by.    

“I think I should call my attorney,” said Neil sullenly.

Scully looked up at Mulder standing there and he tilted his head to indicate that he wanted to talk to her outside. “I’m certain we’ll have more questions for you, Mr. Bishop,” said Scully. “I’d advise you to remain available.” She followed Mulder out of the kitchen and down the front steps of the house to the lawn.

“I didn’t expect you to beat me here,” he said. “How many speed limits did you break?” She had been known to have a heavy foot and Mulder often chided her about it.

She chose to ignore the jibe this time. “He’s flat-out denying that he was seeing her, Mulder, but it had to be him.”

Mulder nodded. “I agree. It was him. And if we talk to enough people, someone will have seen them together.”

She sighed. “But even if we can prove they were having an affair, it makes Neil Bishop a liar and an adulterer, but not a murderer. Short of a witness or a confession, we’ve still got nothing to tie him to the crime.”

“Let’s see what the search team turns up. How the hell did you get here so fast again?”

“I didn’t drive from Georgetown. I was already here,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I think we should show Neil’s photo to the manager of the motel who gave us a description and see if he can identify him.”

What had she said? About being there already? “What?”

She eyed him impatiently. “I said I think we should talk to the motel manager again and see if he can ID Neil.”

That wasn’t the part he hoped he had misheard. Fuck. She’d spent the night with him. Well, that explained the slightly disheveled hair and the fact that she was wearing yesterday’s wrinkled clothing. He had not been expecting this so soon, but maybe he should have. She had known the guy since she was eighteen and they had been intimate before. It wasn’t like he was a stranger. Still, six days ago she had no idea Adam was even on the East coast and now she was warming his bed? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Well, yes, obviously. The mental images assaulting his cerebral cortex were making him feel ill. How did it get this far?

He must’ve been lost in his pitiful thoughts a moment too long because he realized that Sheriff Fletcher had come out of the house and was standing there talking to both he and Scully. “Agent Mulder, are you all right?” asked Fletcher.

Mulder turned and started walking down the driveway without a glance back. “Fucking peachy.”

 

*******

Four hours later, the search team had canvassed the home of Neil Bishop, and the restaurant, and turned up not a stitch of evidence to connect him to either an affair with Amy Rhodes, or to her death. When they called the hotel that Eli Harrington had patronized to see if the manager was working and could look at photographs, they were told that the man was out of town until Tuesday and could not be reached.

“I’m going home, Scully.” Mulder tossed his jacket in and stood at the open car door, arms crossed. “I’m guessing you have a ride.”

“Actually, I’m going home too. But I need to drop off Adam’s car to him.” Her tone was careful, guarded and professional. “If you could please follow me to his house and then give me a ride to Georgetown, I’d appreciate it.” She hit the key fob and the Toyota chirped.

Mulder huffed, gnawing on a sunflower seed, eyes gazing blankly at anything but her. “First the clothes. Now he lends you his car? So generous. Nothing in return?” He spit the seed onto the lawn, perfectly aware that he was being a first class asshole.

Her eyes flashed a warning. “Mulder.”

He shook his head, turning the key in the ignition. “Lead the way, Scully,” he sighed.

He followed her the four miles to Adam’s house and waited in the driveway with the engine running.  She said she’d only be a minute. He wasn’t feeling overly patient. He laid on the horn twice before she came back out, wearing that look that suggested she was mentally cataloging all the ways she could murder him and get away with it. 

*******

 They rode forty-two miles in silence and not the comfortable kind either. She was confused by his obvious reaction to the fact that she’d spent the night at Adam’s. He was treating her as if she had purposely done something to deceive him or make him jealous, when all she’d done was live her life, just like he was doing. She had thought at one time that there was more than a professional partnership between them, or at the very least, that it was headed in that direction. Even now, the memory of how he had looked at her, standing in the hallway outside his apartment, as if nothing in the world mattered, but her. Had she been so terribly wrong? If it hadn’t been for that bee sting, there was absolutely no question in her mind that she would have made love to him that day. The idea that she could have gotten so carried away with her feelings, that she could have misinterpreted his, made her feel like a naïve fool.

Yes, she had made it personal. And she thought that he had too. She wouldn’t make that same mistake again.    

As they exited the freeway near her apartment, her cell phone rang. The number on the screen was Adam’s. She briefly considered not answering it, but decided that was ridiculous. She had nothing to hide.

“Hello.”

“You left something here. It’s lacy.”

Her cheeks colored and she shifted in her seat toward the window, smiling despite her embarrassment. She had to briefly remind herself that only her side of the conversation was audible. “Yes, well um, you could just hang onto that until-“

“Or you could just come back,” he interrupted. “Tonight.”

“Tonight?” She could’ve sworn she saw Mulder’s grip tighten on the steering wheel.

“The way I figure it, you have to either drive down tonight or drive down tomorrow morning, right? If you come tonight, then you’ve only got a five minute commute in the morning.”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“I’ll make you dinner.”

“Hmmm, tempting,” she hummed.

Mulder reached and pressed the button on the car stereo, then twisted the knob to the right. Music blared loudly. Adam said something that she couldn’t hear.

“Hang on,” she said, turning the radio down. “What?”

“I asked if you bjgksui iekfjut fthygnssvb,” he said, his last words coinciding with another increase in volume by Mulder.

She held her hand over the receiver and shot daggers toward the driver’s side of the car. “Mulder, do you mind? I’m on the phone! Jesus.” She turned the music down again.

“I’m sorry, Adam, say that once more, please.”

“Is everything all right? Do you want me to call you back?”

“No! It’s fine. Really. Just…what did you say?”

“I asked if you liked barbecued ribs. I thought I’d cook some on the grill.”

“That sounds delicious. Give me time to shower and pack some clothes for tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. Wear more lacy things.”

She giggled. “Demanding. Any other requests.”

Mulder rolled his window down all the way until the air whipped through the interior of the car, making a loud thumping sound, like an egg beater. She scowled and held a finger to her other the ear, trying one again to hear what Adam was saying.

“Just hurry.”

“I’ll see you soon,” she yelled, above the noise.

She hung up her phone and stared unforgivingly at Mulder, punching the stereo off with emphasis. She’d had more than enough of his childish behavior. “What is your problem?”

He ignored her question. “Don’t tell me you’re going to turn around and drive all the way back there tonight.”

Her temper flared. “Mulder, that is none of your business.”

He huffed and shook his head, refusing to look at her. “He must be really good, Scully.”

She could feel the heat rise to her face and her fists ball involuntarily. She would have slapped him if she wasn’t afraid he might drive off the road. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

The car pulled up in front of her apartment and he threw it in park, turning to face her. “Scully, what do you honestly know about this guy? So you knew him fifteen years ago and you were high school sweethearts. So what! A lot can change. I’m telling you he doesn’t add up, he’s running from something.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

His eyes locked on hers. “He lived in New York for five years, upper east side, expensive apartment, had a job making well over six figures. Then one day he just ups and leaves for no reason. He actually walked out of his office, no notice or anything.  And he moved south…to do what? To play Popeye the Sailor Man? I don’t think so. He’s running. And I don’t what from, but I plan to find out.”

Her mouth hung open and her entire insides coiled. For the first time, she could swear she knew what it meant to feel one’s blood boil. Her voice shook when she spoke. “You…are way out of line. I can’t believe you checked into him, Mulder! You had absolutely NO RIGHT! It is not your job to protect me. I am a grown woman who is perfectly capable of making her own decisions.”

“Like the decision to jump into his bed after less than a week?”

Her eyes flamed. This was not happening. She didn’t think she’d ever been this furious with him. “How DARE you! How dare you judge me!” She was yelling now and her neighbors were most certainly staring out from behind curtains with wide eyes. “That is mighty hypocritical of you, Mulder. After all we know now about Diana Fowley, about where her loyalties lie – and don’t tell me you don’t have your suspicions, because I know you do, Mulder. After all that, I sure don’t see you turning her away.”

His brows furrowed. “What are you talking-“

“There is a term for what you’re doing. It’s called sleeping with the enemy. Don’t you dare underestimate her, Mulder.  If given half the chance, she will not hesitate to destroy everything we’ve worked for. And if you think that makes me furious, then you’re damn well right. The X-Files mean as much to me now as they mean to you. I’ve sacrificed too much, have lost too much, to let her or anyone else take it away.”

She unlatched her seatbelt hastily and the buckle smacked hard against the door molding. Her hands shook as she gathered her purse and bag and stood to exit the vehicle. “And as for Adam, it is absolutely none of your damn business, but you’re right. He was running from something. Her name was Kim and she’s an alcoholic, and probably the love of his life.  And he’s spent the last three years putting his life back together and moving on. That’s it. That’s the story, Mulder. So you can stop running background checks and trying to uncover every last little speck of dirt on him in a pathetic effort to shock me because you’re wasting your time. I already know it all. He’s been up front and honest with me from the beginning, which is more than I can say for you right now. So do me a favor, Mulder, and stay the hell out of my personal life!”

She slammed the door hard and pivoted on her heels toward her apartment, then turned back and opened the door again, ducking her head in to glare at him once more. “And don’t bother picking me up tomorrow morning because I won’t be home. I will meet you at the sheriff’s office at eight thirty.”

His car was still idling at the curb when she closed the front door of her apartment building, hands trembling and eyes welling.

 

*******

She pulled down Adam’s winding driveway a little before seven. It was still light outside, a testament to the fact that the days were getting longer as spring slowly edged toward summer. It was still balmy outside with temperatures in the lower seventies, even this late. The weather report on the car radio had told her that they were experiencing one of the warmest springs on record for the eastern seaboard. She cut the engine and inhaled deeply, feeling relaxed by just being there.

Back at her apartment earlier, she had seethed through an extra long, extra hot shower, scrubbing her skin vigorously until it was pink. She muttered and talked out loud to the tile wall, replaying their entire conversation and spitting out things she wished she’d said to him in the heat of the moment. She couldn’t believe how angry he could make her. When she shaved her legs, she nicked herself twice with the razor and bled into the stream of water, swearing at her carelessness.

The hour-long car ride had finally provided the calming she needed, the steady hum of the highway lulling her into a more relaxed and healthy frame of mind. She was looking forward to spending the evening with Adam and the last thing she wanted was for her argument with Mulder to interfere with her enjoyment of that.

Moses bounced across the lawn to greet her, tail wagging, and she dropped to one knee to give him a proper scratch. “Good timing,” a voice called from the upper deck. She dropped her bags and ascended the wooden stairs to where he stood, tending a smoking grill in frayed jeans and bare feet. It smelled heavenly.  

“I just threw the ribs on. We’ve got time.”

She wrapped an arm around his waist, casually. “For what?”

His eyebrows jumped at her, playfully, causing her to flush. She looked down and bit her lip.

“For you to help me toss the salad,” he said, taking her hand and leading her into the house. “What were you thinking? Geez, get your mind out of the gutter.”

She giggled and shook her head at him.      

    *******


	20. Chapter 20

He was right about the stars. She stared up at the inky clear night through the skylights above his bed and felt just like she was drifting at sea. The tip of his tongue traced her knee cap, then her inner thigh and she blew air from her lungs through a puckered O. Her own hands went to the tips of her breasts and she circled two tight nipples and then pinched gently.

His tongue left her skin and the spot where it had been felt cool and damp. She heard him groan at the sight of her touching herself. It amused her. The way men reacted to the sight of a woman pleasuring herself. As if they thought women didn’t. In the privacy of their own bedrooms, hotel rooms, showers. She had spent more of her life without a steady lover than with one. Humans were sexual creatures, and she was no exception.

She remembered the first time it had happened to her. It. Not simply touching herself, but something more. She had been fourteen years old and had awoken from a dream sweating and panting, her cotton nightgown bunched at her waist and her hand pressed to the front of her panties, stroking hard. By the time she was fully alert, her legs were stretched taut, toes pointed, breath caught in her throat as her body began to quake and contract. She bit down on her bottom lip to stay quiet and keep from waking sixteen-year-old Missy, who slept across the room from her.

She had never felt anything like it before in her life. When it was over, she was completely flushed and breathing hard, her muscles loose and heavy. “Dana?” Missy whispered in the dark. “Are you okay? Are you sick?”

Oh God. “No,” she panted. “No, I-I just had a dream.” The front of her panties was soaked. She slipped them off beneath the covers and tucked them under the mattress.

The next day, she and Missy had been lying on their beds doing their homework when she looked up to see her sister’s eyes watching her, a curious half smile on her lips. “Was that the first time?”

She frowned. “What?”

“You know. Last night…in the middle of the night…was that the first time you did that?”

Her cheeks blazed and she rolled over on her bed, facing away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now shut up, I have an algebra test tomorrow.”

Missy gave a sly chuckle. “It’s no big deal. Everybody does it. I’ll tell you a secret, though. It feels better when a boy does it to you.”

“SHUT UP! Or get out, Missy, I swear!”

Another chuckle. “Just do me a favor and wait until I’m not in the room next time.”

Dana slammed her book closed and stalked out.

Many years later, she and Missy had gone out for a few too many drinks to celebrate her acceptance into medical school, and Missy presented her with a package wrapped in a silver ribbon. Inside was a small pink wand. It had taken Dana a minute to realize what she was looking at before her mouth dropped and she tossed the entire package at her sister. “Missy!” She giggled, thoroughly embarrassed.

“It uses batteries,” laughed her sister.

“You are disgusting!” She blushed furiously.

“Oh God, Dana, get over yourself. Trust me, every girl needs one.”

“You’re gross, you know that?”

“Suit yourself if you don’t want it,” Missy teased. “I hear medical school can be pretty stressful.”

Dana clicked her tongue, disapprovingly, before snatching the package back out of her sister’s hands and tucking it into her purse.

Her nostalgic thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the tip of a sweet, wet tongue on her labia. She jumped and gasped. “God, Adam!”

He planted a silky kiss to her cleft and ran a finger up the length of her opening. “Let me.”

Her breathing quickened and she only hesitated a few seconds before sucking in air and nodding. She couldn’t remember the last time. Years. Ethan had always been a selfish bastard about it. She’d never been squeamish about performing oral and he had no problem taking advantage of her skills, but when it came to reciprocating, he’d treated it like a chore.

But it was all coming back to her now, how fan-fucking-tastic it was. Her head slammed back against the pillow and she grabbed a fistful of his hair. Before she knew it, her thighs were clamped tight and shaking against the sides of his head. She let fly a string of words and phrases that would have given a bar full of sailors a run for their money.

When he finally slid up her trembling body, she had her elbow flung over her eyes and her chest was heaving. “Ohmygod, I- I’m sorry,” she panted. “I didn’t mean to…I got ….a little carried away.”

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Are you kidding me? Please, get carried away. Get very carried away. I want to make you do that again.” He kissed her and she tasted the tanginess of herself on his mouth. Oddly, she didn’t find it repugnant, but rather arousing. She reached for his cock and he hissed and pressed himself firmly to her hand.

“We can wait longer, if you need to,” he whispered, his jaw set tight as he struggled for self-control. Her head rolled against the pillow and she tugged him gently over her. He slid into her on the first try and she bit down gently on his bare shoulder at the sheer fullness of the feeling. Their rhythm was slow and steady and she came again right before he did, the strong tug of her contractions dragging him with her.

After, she lay with her head pillowed on his shoulder. His fingers skimmed and danced over her bare hip beneath the cool sheet. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, nuzzling her hair with his mouth.

She sighed. “Honest?”

“Of course.”

“I was just wondering if you think about her a lot? And if you know where she is now?”

His fingers slowed their movement. “Not as much as I used to. And…not in the same way. I mean, I do wonder how she is, if she’s okay. I…think she’s somewhere in the southwest, Arizona or New Mexico, but I don’t know for sure. Her Mom called me about nine months ago, to see how I was doing. She had received a birthday card in the mail from Kim. It was postmarked Santa Fe. But who knows if she’s still there.”

Dana was quiet for a long minute, taking in steady, soft breaths. “I’m the first woman you’ve been with. Since.” It wasn’t exactly a question because she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

“Yes, you are,” he replied, honestly. “Does that bother you?”

She thought for a moment before answering. “No, I don’t think so. Certainly you’ve had opportunity.”

He chuckled very quietly. “Um…yes. A little. Some, I guess.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He drew in a long breath and exhaled, his chest rising and falling slowly under her. “I guess it’s taken me a while to feel like I have something in me to offer someone. If that makes any sense.”

She nodded, her hair whispering against his bare shoulder. “It does.” His arms tightened around her and she closed her eyes, contentedly.

“I’ve got a trip planned for this summer. Did I tell you that?” His voice sounded optimistic, winsome.

“No, you didn’t. Where?”

“Well, that’s the thing, actually. Maybe even the best part. I’m not exactly sure. I’ve always wanted to just…sail, but it’s never been the right time. When I first moved down here, I certainly wasn’t in the right frame of mind, emotionally or mentally to do it. Then, I started the business and spent a couple of years getting it off the ground. But it’s always been in the back of my mind, you know, this desire to just…go.”

She lifter her head off his shoulder and tilted it to look at him, brows elevated. “You mean you have no plan whatsoever, no map-“

“Oh, I have some idea, but no itinerary. I’ll sail south to Florida and see my parents first. Stay there a week and then I’ll continue south, I think. Down around the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico – I always did want to put that high school Spanish to good use,” he smiled. “Then perhaps a loop around Turks and Caicos, a quick stop in Jamaica, and then around the Cayman’s and back up.”

“Wow, it sounds…amazing.”

“I’ve spent the last six months getting the boat ready. There’s more preparation involved than you might imagine.”

“What about the business?”

“I’m not planning to leave until the end of August. The bulk of the tourist season is over by then. Deacon and Pete will handle it for a few months.”

“A few months…” her voice trailed off, thoughtfully.

He caressed her hair and sighed. “Give or take. I’m hoping to be back before the end of November.”

“And Moses?”

He smiled. “Moses will be my first mate. He loves being on the boat.”

“Mmm, it does sound heavenly,” she said, wistfully.

He was quiet for several minutes while she lay there in thought. She wondered if perhaps he’d fallen asleep when he finally spoke. “You know, you could…go with me.”

She swallowed hard. “Adam…I don’t, um-“

“Sorry, that was…out of line,” he jumped in with a nervous laugh. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I know it’s months away and we’re not…forget I said it.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… I-I can’t leave for three months. The work that Mulder and I do, it’s just not something that can be put on hold for months at a time.”

“I know that. I do. It was the first thing that popped into my head and I shouldn’t have said it.”

“It’s okay.” She forcibly tried to dismiss the thoughts from her over-active mind. August was four months away. They’d only been seeing each other a week, despite the fact that it felt like so much longer given their complicated past. Still, it was ridiculous that she was even thinking about it. 

He smiled tenderly, perhaps sensing a tension in her. “Hey…where were we?” He planted a kiss on her lips before tugging her gently on top of him. “Let’s just go back to…this.” He began working his way down the slope of her neck with soft kisses. She sighed and her eyes drifted shut in contentment.   

 

*******

Calvert County Sheriff’s Office

It was ridiculously early, barely sun-up, when Mulder arrived at the county sheriff’s office. The night guard eyed him warily from the front desk as he made his way back to the interrogation room, bleary eyed with a death grip on an oversized espresso. It had been a hard night.

After his epic blow-up with Scully, he’d spent the better part of the evening sulking over Chinese take-out and replaying her words, ad nauseum, in his head. He didn’t think she’d ever been so pissed off at him before, and he wondered how in the hell their relationship had gotten so far off-track. Admittedly, he had said some things to her that were out of line, had acted immature and childish. He had convinced himself that it had been okay for him to use the privileges of his badge to gain personal information on Adam because he was doing it to protect Scully. But she had seen right through his layer of bullshit and called him on it. His true motive had been anything but noble. He’d been jealous and spiteful, plain and simple. The very idea of her with another man was literally eating him from the inside-out. She had always just been there, as reliable and sure as the science and empiricism that governed her beliefs. She was his Scully. And he didn’t share well.

He had watched bad movies and porn until well after midnight, then dozed off for a few hours before waking up around 4 a.m. Unable to get back to sleep, he went for a long run down the center of deserted side streets, then took a hot shower and dressed. He was on Solomon’s Island before 7:00.

Forty-five minutes into staring at the case file documents layered across the conference table and it finally happened. That moment of recognition that made his stomach drop and caused that prickly feeling on the nape of his neck. He picked up the drawing that Henry had made of his own house, then hit speed dial on his cell phone. His call to Scully went directly to voice mail. Jesus Christ, was she really going to do this? Not answer his calls? He hung up without leaving a message and would have thrown his phone across the room if he hadn’t needed it to make the next call.

Sheriff Fletcher picked up on the first ring.

“We need to get a search team back over to the Bishop residence now,” instructed Mulder.

“Ohhh-kay. I’m ten minutes away in my cruiser.  I’ll call it in as soon as I get to the office.”

“Better yet,” said Mulder, “call from the road and meet me at the Bishop’s. I need to track down my partner.”  And I have a pretty good idea where to find her, he thought.

 

*******

Mulder tried her cell phone once more on the way over to Adam’s house with no luck. The last thing he wanted to do was to go after her, but he needed her on this. He had no choice but to swallow his pride and find her. He parked at the end of the driveway and approached the house on foot. He recognized Scully’s car, parked in front of the two-car garage, a thin film of early morning dew coating the windshield. Clearly it had been there all night. He’d been expecting that, but it still didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

He was just about to knock when he heard her – a breathy laugh, then a murmur, soft and feminine. He looked up and there they were on the upper deck. Mulder stopped dead in his tracks, not moving a muscle. He held his breath, which was ridiculous because they were far enough away not to hear him, and obviously preoccupied. Turn and go, just turn and go. Turn the fuck around and walk away.

He couldn’t have pried his eyes off them if a spaceship had landed on the front lawn.

They were sharing a chair and she was wearing his shirt -  a wrinkly cotton, button-down and little else. Bare legs, mussed hair, only enough buttons secured to conceal the absolute necessities. Or not, he thought, swallowing hard as he watched her shift in Adam’s lap. The hem of the shirt rode up her leg to reveal the back of one creamy white thigh, the spot where the top of her leg met the bottom of that cute little round…Holy Chr… was she even wearing any…? Sweet Jesus. He actually felt himself start to get hard.  

Close your eyes, Mulder. Do yourself the fucking favor of a lifetime and stop looking. Ten more seconds and he’d turn into a pillar of salt.  Nine, eight, seven…

She held a coffee mug balanced precariously in one hand while he kissed her. He was attached so hard to her lips that you would’ve thought she held the answer to all life’s mysteries in her dental work.   God, come up for air, you lecherous creep. And while you’re at it, get your slimy hand off her knee. Make that thigh. Upper thigh. Ass. Christ.   

His stomach knotted and his mouth went dry. He hated nothing more than when he had to admit to himself that he’d royally fucked up. Of course she was sitting on another man’s lap, wearing his shirt, in all likelihood going commando underneath. Why shouldn’t she be? It was bound to happen sooner or later. He’d given her no reason not to.

The question was what to do now? Or worse yet, was he out of options altogether? Nothing to do, but drop back and punt.

He left quietly, waiting until his car was safely out of the driveway and down the road before calling her cell phone and leaving a message.

“Hey Scully, it’s me. Um…as soon as you can, meet me at the Bishop’s. Something’s come up. Listen, um, about last night…I uhh…” he sighed, long and deep. “Never mind. I’ll see you soon.”

 

 *******


	21. Chapter 21

Home of Neil , Sarah, and Henry Bishop

Mulder was standing on the Bishop’s front lawn when Scully’s car pulled up in front of the house and she hopped out, flipping her badge to the cop standing at the end of the driveway who gave her the one-over. What a difference an hour makes, thought Mulder. She was dressed in her FBI standard – black pants and matching fitted blazer, unbuttoned to reveal a burgundy top underneath. Her gold cross glinted in the sun as it rested against her collarbone. One would never have known that the woman with the sleekly styled hair and flawless makeup had been sporting her best morning-after look not sixty minutes prior.

If her mind was still on their altercation the night before, she gave no indication. She strode confidently to him, a wrinkle between her brows as she visually scanned the premises and noted the flurry of activity. “I got your message. What’s going on?”

“Another search.”

“Yes, I can see that, but why? The house has been searched twice with no result.”

He raised a finger and started toward his car. “Ah, the house has been searched, that’s true.” She followed him wearing that familiar expression that told him no matter what he was dangling in front of her, she wasn’t going to swat at it.

He retrieved the case file, pulled out the drawing that Henry had done of his house, and handed it to her. “Look carefully at this, Scully.”

She sighed, her eyes sweeping the paper with little enthusiasm or patience. “Mulder, we’ve been staring at this drawing for days. You have, I have, Sheriff Fletcher has, the Bishops have – “

“Look again,” he interrupted, his voice placidly even. “Look at it, and look around here, and then tell me what you see. Or don’t see.”

He watched her for any sign of recognition as she did what he asked. Her eyes scanned the page carefully, then back and forth again several times. “I see this house. This house standing in front of me and a shed in the back yard and the driveway and the mailbox and-“ she stopped talking and her frown deepened.

Her eyes darted to his. “The shed?”

He nodded, slowly. “Look around the yard. There’s an old rusty swing set, a bird bath, a rather large vegetable garden, numerous trees, one that even has an old tree fort in it. But Henry didn’t draw any of those things. He drew his house. And he drew the shed. That’s it. We’ve been focusing on the wrong structure the whole time.”

“Did the team turn anything up yet?”

He shook his head. “Besides a push mower, gardening tools, some sporting equipment, and evidence of rodent infestation? No. But they will.”

“Where are the Bishops?”

“Neil’s at the diner. Sarah and Henry are inside.” Mulder leveled a look at her. “When we showed up with the search team this morning, Sarah Bishop declined Sheriff Fletcher’s offer to call her husband. She told us to go ahead and search without him present.” He shifted his feet and nodded toward the house. “And she asked to see you as soon as you got here.”

“She thinks he’s guilty?”

Mulder shrugged. “I don’t know. Whatever she thinks, she’s not going to tell me, though. She trusts you.”

Scully looked up at him dubiously.

“For whatever reason, Sarah Bishop feels a connection to you. And I believe she senses one between you and Henry too.”

His comment seemed to startle her briefly. She shook her head and averted her gaze, but didn’t argue with his assessment. “I’ll talk to her.”

 

*******

The inside of the house was stuffy and warm. It smelled like burnt coffee and lingering grease from a meal that had probably been cooked yesterday or the day before. The sun was shining outside, but Sarah Bishop seemed oblivious to it, seated at the kitchen table wrapped in a thread-bare cardigan sweater, lifting her coffee mug with trembling hands.  Scully wanted to open windows and usher in light and fresh air.

“Did my husband do this, Agent Scully?” Sarah Bishop asked before Scully had even taken a seat at the table. “Did he kill that girl?”

Her bluntness caught Scully off-guard for a moment. She pulled out a chair and sat, folding her hands in front of her. She spoke cautiously, stating no more than the obvious. “Sarah, your husband has not been charged with murder.”

“I know.” She sniffed, her eyes rimmed red. “But you wouldn’t be here again if you thought he was innocent.”

Scully sighed, not really able to offer the woman any reassurance, and refusing to lead her to believe the situation was innocuous. “We think…that there’s a good chance Neil is not being completely honest with us about his involvement with Amy Rhodes.”

“Oh God,” Sarah’s voice was not more than a whisper. She closed her eyes and a fat tear trickled down her cheek. Her hands squeezed and twisted the life from a paper napkin.

“Sarah, where is Henry?”

“In his room. He knows I’m upset. He can sense things like that, you know?”

Scully nodded, comfortingly, then reached for the woman’s thin hand. “I know this is hard. And I know you‘ve been through a lot, both you and Henry. But please, Sarah, if there’s anything you can tell us – anything at all…”

“He had an affair before,” she blurted, her eyes flashing as they connected with Scully’s, then retreating back down.  “Six years ago. It wasn’t long after Henry’s diagnosis and we were going through a terrible time.  She-she was a neighbor. I found the receipt to a motel in his coat pocket and I confronted him. He said it had only happened a couple of times, that he was emotionally distraught over Henry and I had been…preoccupied and withdrawn-“

“It wasn’t your fault-“ said Scully. Dammit, why did women always think it was?  In a time of youthful indiscretion and selfishness, she had been the other woman once. When she looked back on her time with Daniel now, she felt nothing but embarrassment and shame. But back then, it had been easy to allow herself to believe that since his marriage was already failing, what they were doing wasn’t wrong and hurtful. He had convinced her that he couldn’t help falling in love with her, that what they had was special, that they both deserved to be happy. He was thirteen years older than her, charismatic, brilliant, handsome. They had common interests and he challenged her intellectually like no one had before. She was naïve and seeking of his approval, and she allowed herself to be swept off her feet and to lose her common sense. She could imagine that it might have been much the same for Amy Rhodes.

“I know now that it wasn’t my fault,” said Sarah. “But back then…he seemed so sorry, so upset with himself. He promised it would never happen again. I believed him.”

“Sarah, do you think it’s even possible that…if Neil was having an affair with Amy, and she threatened to expose him, that he could have harmed her?”

She swiped at her eyes with the back of one hand. “God. Oh God.” Her head shook back and forth slowly and she bit her lip. “I want to say no. I want so badly to say no. I mean, Neil has never been violent with me. But now…I’m wondering if I’ve ever really known my own husband.”

“Do you think it’s possible Henry could have been aware of his father’s relationship with Amy?”

A look of distress came over Sarah’s face. “Henry didn’t hurt Amy. No matter what he could have known, there’s no way he would have hurt her. He’s never hurt anyone before.”

Scully nodded, trying to offer reassurance, but she had to admit to herself that the possibility could not be ruled out. If Henry had discovered his father’s affair with Amy, and had reacted by wanting to protect his mother and keep his parent’s marriage together, then anything was possible.  She wanted the opportunity to see Henry again, without Sarah present.

“Excuse me for just a moment,” Scully said apologetically, rising from the table and leaving Sarah in the kitchen. She walked to the foyer where she recalled having seen a small powder room earlier. She found it and closed the door. Then she returned to the kitchen.

“Sarah, the downstairs bathroom appears to be occupied. Would it be all right if I used one upstairs?”

The woman nodded distractedly and got up to serve herself another cup of coffee that, if the tremor in her hands was any indication, she could do without. “Turn left at the top of the stairs.”

“Thank you.”

Scully mounted the stairs and took in her surroundings. The house was not large and there were only four doors leading from the second floor hallway. The one to the right appeared to be a master bedroom. She turned to the left and found the bathroom right away, but continued past it to a room at the end of the hall and peeked around a partially open door. Henry was sitting at a small desk with his back to her, not surprisingly, sketching. She noticed that there were bookshelves lining an entire wall and on them were rows and rows of model airplanes, cars and trains. There had to be dozens of them.

“Hi Henry,” she said quietly, so as not to startle the boy. “It’s Agent Scully. Dana.”

To her surprise, he lifted his head and turned to look at her for a brief moment before returning to his task. She entered the bedroom very slowly and walked to the bookshelves, eyeing the models more closely. She was careful not to touch them.

“Did you make these, Henry?” The boy made no indication that he even heard her. “They’re remarkable. My brother, Bill, used to paint model airplanes when he was about your age. He’d sit for hours at the kitchen table working on them.”

Henry stopped sketching and put his kohl pencil down on the desk. He stared straight ahead, but Scully got the distinct impression that she had somehow captured his elusive attention. Her heart beat a little faster and her brain shuffled through the possibilities of what to say next. She knew that his attention hung precariously in the balance and she would either keep it or lose it with her choice of words.

“I-I-I think I like this one the best.” She hoped he would turn to see which she referred to, but he did not. “This one – the helicopter with the red, white, and blue. It’s very patriotic.” Henry continued staring straight ahead.

“Do you have a favorite, Henry?” she ventured.

The only indication the boy gave that he had actually heard her speak was to start up a rocking motion, backward and forward in his chair, two hands braced against the desk top. She continued, pursuing his attention. “What about this one? This old B-52 bomber? The colors are subtle, but the detailing is very nice. I’ll bet this one is your favorite.”

Henry pushed back suddenly from the desk and stood, and Scully held her breath as he approached the shelves. He stared down at his feet, but reached forward, precisely, to the top shelf and grasped a model of a cherry red sports car. He extended his hand and placed the car in her outstretched palms.

She exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the model in her hands. “The ’65 Mustang convertible,” she said, cautiously, amazed at this level of interaction from him and hoping to encourage more. “It’s beautiful, Henry. You know what? I rode in one of these once.”    

His deep blue eyes darted to hers for the shortest of seconds before returning to the floor. It was a brief and tentative communication, yet incredibly significant. He was expressing trust in her. She smiled.

Just then there was a short rap at the door to Henry’s room and Scully turned her head to see Mulder standing just outside the doorway, unsure and tentative. “Hey. Looks like the party’s up here.”

“Hi,” she said, the smile still on her face. “Henry was just showing me his model collection. This one’s his favorite. The ’65 Mustang.” She carefully placed the red car back on the shelf where it belonged, wondering how long Mulder had been listening.

Mulder entered the room slowly and approached them, his hands stuffed casually in his pants pockets. “I didn’t know you knew old cars, Scully.” She noticed that he kept his eyes trained on the shelves, being careful not to make direct eye contact with Henry. The psychologist in him would have some idea about how to conduct himself around someone like Henry, to put him at ease.  

“Some,” she replied. “A friend in college had a ’65 Mustang, completely refurbished.”

“A friend?” He smirked at her.

“A friend.”

Henry continued to stand stock still, but his eyes were no longer stuck on his feet. They roamed over Mulder curiously with little or no outward expression. Mulder pointed to another car. “What about this one, Scully? Know what this is?”

She eyed it carefully, tilting her head from side to side, careful not to touch the model. “Pontiac GTO.” She was only sixty-five percent certain, but she said it like she was ninety.

Mulder’s brows went to his hairline. “What year?” he challenged.

“I have no idea. Late seventies?”

“Close, but no cigar,” he said, smugly. “1973.”

She rolled her eyes. She actually had no interest whatsoever in muscle cars, but growing up, Bill had been obsessed. He used to bribe her with penny candy if she could name the year and make of any car he pointed to in his Hot Rod magazine. She had retained some of the knowledge over the years. It always seemed to render men speechless, this idea that she could bear a set of ovaries and still differentiate between a Chevy Camaro and a Dodge Charger.

Mulder didn’t strike her as the type of guy to hold an interest in cars either, other than whether it would get him from point A to point B and did it have enough leg room? They had once changed a flat tire together during their first year as partners, and it had been blatantly evident that when it came to basic vehicle maintenance and repair, she left him in the dust. They had bickered so much during the process that she had actually wondered about their suitability as partners. To hell with communication seminars; give each pair of agents in the Bureau a jack and a lug wrench and see who sank or swam.   

After several seconds of standing there quietly, she noticed that Henry was curiously eyeing Mulder’s shirt pocket with a tiny wrinkle between his brows. The tip of a pen peeked over the crisp white cotton. Mulder smiled and reached for it. “What? You like this?”

Oh God, she thought, please don’t let it be that that one with the brunette and the disappearing bikini on it that she pretended not to notice. Please, don’t let it be that one. It had made an appearance in his possession a few weeks ago, and she had resisted the urge to ask him whose class act bachelor party he’d had the pleasure of attending recently.

It wasn’t. It was one of those corny plastic pens that wrote in different colored ink when you pressed the buttons on the top. She bit back a grin. Of course Mulder would have a pen like that. Of course he would. Mulder held the instrument out for Henry to examine, but the boy just stared without making any attempt to reach for it.

“It’s cool, isn’t it?” said Mulder. “You want to try it?” He walked over to Henry’s desk, took a blank piece of paper, and doodled a goofy-looking smiley face in green ink. Then he switched over to red and added on a stick figure to the bottom of the face. He finished in blue ink by scrawling the words “Agent Mulder” and an arrow pointing to the funny figure. Henry’s eyes were wide and unblinking. Mulder placed the pen in the boy’s hand. “Your turn.” After a moment, Henry sat down slowly in his chair and clicked through all the ink colors several times before settling on green and putting pen to paper.

Mulder squatted down next to the desk, one hand on the back of Henry’s chair, and watched the boy draw, a silly smile on his face. After several minutes, Mulder put his hand out, a tentative palm up. “Want to see something else?” Henry hesitated before placing the pen back in Mulder’s hand. “You can do this,” Mulder said, clicking the pen. “You can use two colors at once.” Mulder’s long fingers grasped the pen and scrawled red and blue loops across the bottom of the white page. Henry’s face broke out in a smile and the boy rapped his knuckled twice on the wooden desk top in excitement. Mulder chuckled and handed the pen back to Henry.

Scully stood nearby, arms crossed, weight on one hip, all her attention focused on the interaction taking place in front of her. There was something so natural and comfortable about the way Mulder related to this child that it stole the breath from her. She had seen it with Emily too. A childlike innocence and vulnerability, a playfulness, combined with a shadow of protective vigilance. She knew him enough to know that he undoubtedly thought he’d be a terrible parent. But that wasn’t what she saw.   

Henry continued drawing, his attention completely absorbed in the activity. Mulder stood and walked over to Scully. They exchanged a long look that made her face feel warm and her extremities tingle, for  reasons she refused to consider. She was the first to look away, drawing a deep breath and clearing her throat. She searched her brain for something safe to say and came up empty. Sarah Bishop was probably wondering what was taking her so damn long in the bathroom. “Um, I should probably go back…” she gestured haphazardly toward the hallway.

“I want to talk to you,” he interrupted, eyes honest and brooding. “Please. And not about the case.”

She opened and closed her mouth, unable to settle on words. He was standing so close to her that she could feel warmth radiating off him like an electric current.

“Mulder, I don’t think this is the time or place.”

He sucked in his bottom lip and scanned the room with his eyes before giving a half nod. “Okay. When?”

She sighed and recrossed her arms, but offered no response.

“Are you going home tonight?”

Her eyes sparked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leveled her with a look, nonconfrontational, but direct. “It means what it means, Scully.”

Her jaw tightened and she straightened her posture. “I don’t owe you my whereabouts, Mulder. Just like you obviously don’t owe me yours.”

He shook his head, unapologetically. “It was a simple question, Scully. Don’t make this into something it isn’t-“

“What? Don’t make it personal?” She blinked rapidly, refusing to let her emotions ambush her. Not here, not now. She was past this.

“I’m not expecting your itinerary. I just …think we should talk about…” He waived a hand through the air in defeat and then ran it through his hair.

“We have a case to work,” she said quietly. “Let’s just focus on that right now, okay?”

He sighed and nodded.

When they both returned their attention once again to Henry, they noticed that he had stopped drawing and was staring at them, Mulder’s pen hovering above the page. The boy’s eyes were cautious and uneasy. His gaze darted between them several times, like he was waiting for them to continue. Scully closed her eyes. Damn.

To his credit, Mulder managed a gentle smile and walked over to Henry, squatting back down again to the boy’s level. “Hey, I have an idea,” he said. “Why don’t you keep the pen?”

Henry clicked the instrument off and placed it down on the desk in front of Mulder.

Mulder shook his head with a friendly smile. “No, it’s okay. I want you to have it.” Mulder picked up the pen and offered it back to Henry. The boy wrapped his small fingers around it slowly and smiled. Then he clicked the button for the red ink and wrote “1974” on his paper.

Mulder frowned, curiously. “1974?”

The pen moved briskly over the page as Henry drew line after line, effortlessly. Scully moved closer to get a better look. Within seconds the boy had drawn a rough, but detailed outline of two broad doors, a windshield and a grill, four tires. It was a car.

Scully smiled knowingly, although Mulder’s expression remained dubious. “You were off by a year,” she said.

Mulder shrugged at her, still not understanding.

“The Pontiac GTO. It’s a 1974, not a 1973, Mulder. You were off by a year.”

Mulder’s mouth fell open in an ‘I’ll be damned’ look. Scully quirked a brow at him, unsure if she was more inspired by Henry’s simple communication or by the fact that Mulder had been wrong.

The sound of footsteps echoed loudly on the staircase, interrupting the moment. “Agent Mulder?” a familiar voice called out. Sheriff Fletcher rounded the corner, out of breath. “We’ve got something. You’ll want to see this.”  Both Mulder and Scully rushed toward the hallway as Henry stood abruptly from his desk, the pen skittering across the hardwood floor.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, Sarah Bishop was blocking the door to the outside, wringing her hands. She looked at Scully. “What is it? Please.” The woman’s bottom lip trembled. “I heard them say they found something. Nobody will tell me what’s going on.”

Scully placed a hand gently on the woman’s elbow. “Let us go check it out, okay? Stay here with Henry and let us do our job.”

“I want to come outside with you.”

“Sarah, no. You need to stay inside the house. I promise, I’ll be back. Okay?” Scully made eye contact with her and Sarah began to cry, nodding slowly and stepping out of the way.      

Sheriff Fletcher led the way and they followed him around the house, across the lawn toward the back shed. “What’ve you got?” asked Mulder, keeping pace with the sheriff.

“Don’t get excited. It’s not a weapon.”

They reached the shed and someone inside handed a ziplok baggie out the door of the small building to Fletcher.

“But I think you’ve been looking for this,” the sheriff said, holding up a bag with a tiny heart-shaped ring in the bottom.    

“Shit.” Mulder took the baggie and examined the contents carefully through the plastic before handing it to Scully. “That’s the one.”

“Where was it?” asked Scully, fingering the plastic.

“At the bottom of a bag of peat moss,” replied Fletcher. “Search team went through the bag twice before they caught it.”

Scully sighed. “The moisture in the peat moss will make the chances of lifting prints pretty much nil.”

“And if they find any on the outside of the bag, they’ll likely be a match for Neil or Sarah, which won’t help our case any,” added the sheriff.

“Did they find anything else?” asked Mulder.

Fletcher shook his head. “Not yet. But we’re still looking. This is enough to pick up Neil Bishop and hold him for questioning, though.”

Sarah Bishop came running across the lawn toward them, holding her sweater tightly across her chest. She was nearly to them before Scully reached her.

“Jesus,” said Mulder, taking the bag of evidence from Scully’s hand.

“Sarah, you need to stay in the house,” said Scully, ineffectively, reaching for the woman’s arm.

“That’s mine,” Sarah said, her eyes full of relief and trained on the baggie that Scully had thrust back toward Mulder. “It’s okay, it’s nothing. It’s my ring, given to me by my grandmother. I lost it a couple of months ago. I’ve been looking everywhere for it.”

Scully exchanged a look with Mulder.

Sarah Bishop’s relieved smile faded. “What? What is it? It’s my ring. I’m telling you the truth.”

Scully’s voice was calm and even. “I believe you, Sarah. It’s just that someone…a man…gave a ring matching this exact description to Amy Rhodes a month before her death. We think that man was Neil.”

“Nooo,” cried Sarah, crumpling.

“Come on,” said Scully. “Let’s go back into the house.” Sarah allowed herself to be led away. Scully looked up to see Henry watching them from his upstairs bedroom window.

 

END PART SEVEN


	22. Chapter 22

PART EIGHT

Calvert County Sheriff’s Office

 

Mulder sat back in his chair and crossed one leg over his knee, staring down Neil Bishop from across the table of a stuffy interrogation room. The man had pasty looking skin, dark circles under his eyes, and what looked to be grill grease on his collar. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days and if anyone could identify that look, it was Mulder. This man, who had managed to charm a teenaged girl into bed just months before, had morphed into a pathetic, sniffling shell. Mulder might’ve been able to muster something resembling compassion if he didn’t want so desperately to reach across the table and knock out all of his teeth with a swift upper cut to the jaw.

“Neil Bishop,” said Mulder slowly, his tone even. “Or would you rather I call you Eli Harrington?”

The taunt elicited no response from Bishop, who stared blankly with a tightly set jaw.

“So you’re the one.” Mulder stretched back in his chair and laced his fingers casually behind his head. “You started out innocent enough, didn’t you? Watching her in the diner, complimenting her pretty smile, flirting with her when no one was around. She was young and easily flattered, had no idea what a scumbag you really are. Maybe she stayed late one evening to help you close after your wife had taken Henry home to bed. You spotted the perfect opportunity and you made your move. You turned on the charm, made her laugh, told her that a beautiful girl like her deserved more than some immature high school jock. She was too good for this life, for this town. She deserved to know what it felt like to be loved by a real man, someone who could give her expensive things, take her places. Maybe you even promised to leave your wife and marry her.” Mulder leaned forward over the table quickly, his expression cold, his voice elevated. “But all you ever did was take her to seedy motels and treat her like a cheap whore.”

Neil’s eyes flamed. “I didn’t rape her! She was legal. You’ve got nothing on me.”

Mulder settled some. “You’re right. She was seventeen years old, which doesn’t make you a statutory rapist. But it does make you a loathsome, perverted son-of-a-bitch. And if you’re a murderer, mark my words, it’s only a matter of time until we find that out too. And you know what? State prison is full of guys with pretty teenaged daughters who would just love the chance to get their hands on you.”

“I didn’t kill her!”

“Then who did? You have to admit, Neil, from where I’m sitting, it looks pretty bad for you.”

“I have an alibi for the afternoon Amy was murdered.” Neil’s tone was smug and it was all Mulder could do to keep his hands off the prick. “I was in the diner.”

Mulder took a deep breath and steepled his fingers, considering. “So you’ve said. You were working at the grill. Are there any customers who can confirm that?”

“That time of day is slow. It’s before the dinner rush. There wasn’t anyone in the diner, but me, Sarah, and Henry.”

“Uh huh. Well, that’s convenient. Agent Scully is questioning your wife in another room as we speak. You may as well know that spousal alibis are notoriously unreliable and juries have been known to convict based on that fact alone. And besides,” Mulder forced a sneer, “how motivated do you think your wife will be to lie for you, now that she knows you’ve been cheating on her. Again, that is. Sarah already confided in Agent Scully about your other affair. Wives tend to be much less forgiving the second time around. Or is it the third? Or the fourth? How many have there been, Neil?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Neil shook his head. “I cared for Amy. You don’t understand.”

Mulder’s eyes narrowed. “How old are you? Forty-two? Forty-three?”

“Forty-five.”

“Forty-five. Do you know how old you were when she was born? You were twenty-eight. You were an adult when Amy Rhodes was in diapers.” Mulder shook his head slowly. “She was seventeen years old, Neil. Barely old enough to drive. I’m thirty-seven and the idea makes me sick. So no, I don’t understand.”  

He spoke from experience. Back when Mulder first joined Violent Crimes, he went through a period of time when he discovered that the most effective short-term strategy for erasing the horrors of what he saw on the job was to lose himself in soft, warm flesh. He was fresh out of Oxford and having spent much too long as Phoebe Green’s whipping boy, he felt he had missed out on the opportunity to sow his proverbial wild oats. He decided to make up for lost time. Having no shortage of offers from young, impressionable agents within the Bureau, he took advantage, quickly earning himself both a reputation as somewhat of a playboy, and a degree of disapproval from his superiors. So he left the female agents alone and resorted to picking up women in bars and clubs for a few months instead.

One of them had been a petite little blonde with eyes the color of Spanish moss. She was entirely not his type and yet, after six glasses of scotch and a few close dances, that didn’t really concern him. She followed him home and into his bed like a lost puppy. He knew she was young. She told him she was twenty-two, a senior at Georgetown, and since he wasn’t exactly thinking with the big head at the time, he was quick to believe her. In the morning, in between bouts of vomiting up the many drinks he’d bought her the night before, she admitted to him that she wasn’t exactly a senior at Georgetown. She was a senior in high school and she’d be graduating in a month, and could they hook up again over the summer before she left for college? Mulder nudged her aside just in time to dry heave. 

Following that, he got his act together, got blood tested twice, and embarked on six months of self-imposed celibacy before starting to date Diana.

There was a soft rap at the door and Scully entered, carrying an extra mug of coffee, which she placed in front of Mulder before sitting down next to him.

“I want to see my wife,” demanded Neil Bishop.

Scully clicked her pen and then leafed through the pages of a legal pad, deliberately ignoring Neil’s request. She took her sweet time jotting down notes. Then she set her pen down, took a swallow of her coffee and leveled that look at Neil Bishop that had been known to make men’s testicles crawl back up inside their body.

“Mr. Bishop, your wife has confirmed the fact that the heart-shaped ruby ring was hers, an antique given to her by her grandmother, and that it has been missing from her possession for at least three months. Did you give your wife’s ring to Amy Rhodes as a gift?”

Neil sighed heavily and looked down at his hands. “Yes,” he answered softly.

Scully let the pregnant silence hover for a good long minute. She took another sip of coffee and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms confidently over her chest, in no hurry to rush the interrogation along. She was taking full advantage of her position of power to make the subject uneasy. And it was working. Neil Bishop fidgeted uncomfortably and he broke out into a sweat, his forehead developing a light sheen of perspiration.  She was very, very good at this, Mulder thought. Better than he was and he was a good interrogator. Not a strand of ginger hair out of place, she was the epitome of cool, calm, and collected. This woman could have coaxed a confession out of Hannibal Lecter without blinking.   

“Were you seeing Amy Rhodes romantically, Mr. Bishop?” Scully asked, fixing him with a cool stare.

His voice was even quieter than the last time when he answered. “Yes.” His eyes darted around the room frantically.

Scully cleared her throat and leaned forward a little. “And just so we’re all absolutely clear about what that means, Mr. Bishop, were you having sexual intercourse with Amy Rhodes?”

Oh shit, now the guy was really sweating. “Yes! Yes, okay? I was sleeping with her.” Neil’s voice cracked on the last sentence.

“Was it consensual?”

Neil looked vaguely panicked, but tried to hide it. Mulder had to give Scully credit for pushing the envelope. There was no evidence of rape or forced sexual activity from the autopsy report. There were no witnesses or second-hand accounts and it wasn’t like Amy herself was going to be filing any rape charges. The sex was consensual and Scully knew it. She was just taking advantage of the opportunity to stir the pot a little and agitate the subject in hopes that he might crack under pressure. The more upset the witness was, the more likely he was to admit to something he didn’t mean to.

“I didn’t rape her!” Neil slammed a hand down on the table top. Scully didn’t flinch.

She blinked calmly. “Did you kill her?”

“No! No, I did not kill her!”

She allowed for a lengthy pause. Mulder could hear Neil Bishop’s rapid breathing above the hum of the fluorescent lights.

“Where is my wife? I want to see her,” pleaded Neil.

“We’re asking the questions now, Mr. Bishop,” replied Scully, unruffled. “Did you see Amy the day of her murder?”

Neil looked suddenly stricken. He couldn’t be so stupid as to think they didn’t already know the answer to this one. “Yes, I did.”

Scully nodded slowly and crossed one black pant leg over the other like she had all the time in the world. “Tell us what happened.”

He released a shuddering breath before speaking. His voice shook with each word. “I worked all day at the diner. It was raining that day and business was slower than usual. Amy wasn’t working that afternoon and I-I wanted to see her. At around two-thirty, I told Sarah that I had an order to pick up at the butcher and I left. I went by Amy’s place and parked on her street so I could see when she got home from school. She-she got home at ten minutes before three, just like always.” He smiled and Mulder felt like kicking him in the ribs.

“Go on,” urged Scully.

“I knocked and she let me in the front door. There were no cars in the driveway, so I knew her parents weren’t home. If someone else had answered the door, I was prepared to say that Amy had left her paycheck at work and I was delivering it to her. But she was alone. She looked beautiful that day. Her hair was down around her shoulders. She always wore it pulled back when she was at the diner, but I liked it down. She wore it down for me whenever we were together.” Neil cleared his throat. “We, um, we made love in her living room.”

Mulder felt his stomach clench at the terminology. He had made love before. He had fucked, he had gotten laid, he had scored, banged, boned, shagged, boffed, hit a home run, and made the beast with two backs. Plenty of times. And yes, he had definitely made love. A forty-five year old man having intercourse with a seventeen year old girl on her living room floor was not making love. It was disgusting and sad.  

“Then what?” prompted Scully, maintaining her game face.

“Then I left and went back to the diner.”

“What time did you leave Amy’s house?”

“I guess around three-thirty or three-forty.”

Scully scrawled on her notepad without looking up. “And what time did you arrive back at the diner?”

“I-I don’t really know. A little before four, maybe.”

She made eye contact with Bishop, her eyes narrowing. “The diner is only a five minute drive from Amy’s house.”

“I stopped off at a gas station restroom to clean up,” admitted Neil. “I-I couldn’t go back to the diner smelling like…her.”

Mulder swallowed bile. Scully remained stoic.

“Mr. Bishop,” Scully began, calmly, “the coroner placed the time of death between three thirty and four o’clock. That’s awfully close to the time you admitted to having been at Amy’s house, isn’t it?” Mulder suppressed a cruel smile. The ME had indicated that Amy died between three and five. It wasn’t possible to narrow the time of death any further, but Neil didn’t know that. Scully was baiting him.

Neil was pretty much a sweaty, flustered mess at this point.

“Isn’t it, Mr. Bishop?” Scully pushed, eyes glacier blue.

“Just answer Agent Scully’s question, Neil,” urged Mulder.

“I didn’t kill her! For the last time, I didn’t do it! Amy was alive when I left her that day! And I want my Lawyer! I’m not answering another damn question until I see my lawyer!”

Scully offered a disappointed sigh and nodded, closing her notebook. She and Mulder both stood up and stacked the paperwork, preparing to vacate the room.

“So that’s it?” squeaked Neil Bishop. “I can go?”

Scully’s answer was simple and matter-of-fact. “No, Mr. Bishop. You cannot leave.”

“I’ve been sitting in here for hours!  You can’t just hold me here! And I want to see Sarah! I want to talk to my wife!”

Scully very calmly pinned him with her eyes. “Mr. Bishop, you are being held on suspicion of murder. You are not under arrest at this time and you have the right to have your attorney present before further questioning. But we have the right to hold you here for questioning for a minimum of forty-eight hours according to Maryland State law, so if I were you, I’d settle in and get comfortable because you’re not going anywhere anytime soon. And as for Sarah, she went home to pack for herself and Henry. She has elected not to speak with you at this time, and I strongly suggest that you respect her wishes. Your wife has retained her own attorney, and she is fully prepared to file an order of protection against you if necessary.”

Neil’s mouth was still hanging open when they clicked the door shut behind them. Sheriff Fletcher met them in the hallway.

“Anything?” he asked.

“No confession,” said Mulder.

“He admitted to the affair, but not the murder,” added Scully.

Fletcher shook his head. “The search team is done in the shed. There’s nothing else in there. They turned the place inside out, the house too. If something was there, they would’ve found it.”

“Where’s the ring?” asked Scully.

“With forensics,” replied Fletcher. “They’re trying to lift prints, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. And I can’t hold Neil forever. Short of a confession, a witness, or a weapon, I’ve got to let him go within forty-eight hours.”

Mulder cursed under his breath and Scully nodded sullenly. They knew the law.

Fletcher tilted his head toward the door where Neil Bishop could be seen through the small window, sitting inside the interrogation room, his head in his hands. “Do you want me to work on him for a while?”

Mulder shook his head. “He lawyered up.”

Fletcher rolled his eyes. “I’ll make the call to his attorney. Where are Sarah and Henry?”

“On their way to stay with Sarah’s parents,” said Scully. “Regardless of how the murder case turns out, I think Sarah is finished with Neil.”

The sheriff’s face expressed concern. “Is Neil a threat to them? I can get a restraining order filed within hours.”

Scully glanced through the small window of the interrogation room again. “I’ve considered that. But I spoke with Sarah at length and honestly, I don’t think she knows anything to be of threat to Neil if he’s guilty, although he was rather insistent about seeing her just now. If he gets released, you’ll want to keep a close eye on him.”

Fletcher nodded in agreement. “Don’t worry. This is a small town and news travels fast. If he walks out of here without being charged, my guys won’t be the only ones keeping close tabs on Neil Bishop.”    

 

*******

Scully’s Apartment, Georgetown

The spray of water pounded hard on the back of her neck and she closed her eyes and hummed softly. They didn’t call it the Shower Massage for nothing. She wanted to stay in there forever. How much water could she reliably count on – ten minutes worth? Fifteen? Tributaries of water flowed down her slumped shoulders, over her collarbone, off the tips of her breasts and the gentle slope of her tummy.

It wasn’t just her muscles that were a little bit sore. She ran a washcloth with shower gel between her thighs and winced. Lesson learned: if you go from once in five years to four times in two days, you’re going to feel it. Or was it five times? Jesus, she’d forgotten about the one in the shower. She had always thought those little seats in the shower were silly and indulgent. What did anyone need a seat in the shower for? Now she knew.

When she had left Adam’s house that morning, the evening plans had remained undecided. They had both already been late for work, all for good reasons of course. After a long hard day of working the case, it had been almost seven in the evening when she had phoned Adam to tell him she was heading back to Georgetown. He was still finishing a boat for delivery and he sounded exhausted. She suspected he needed a decent night’s sleep as much as she did. They agreed to meet for dinner the next day before he wished her a good night and told her to drive carefully.

It had been a hard day. Any day when she witnessed a family fall apart was difficult, regardless of the reasons. Sarah Bishop had been nothing short of anguished to learn of her husband’s infidelity, made all the worse by the fact that it wasn’t his first one and that it had occurred with someone less than half his age.

Mulder had clearly been even more disgusted than she had been during the interrogation process. After Neil’s attorney arrived, she and Mulder had gone back in to question Neil again, and there had been several moments when Scully wondered if she should discreetly pull Mulder aside and suggest he step out of the room for a break. Despite his flaws, Mulder was a good man and when they encountered cases like this one, it tended to get under his skin in ways that Scully didn’t entirely understand.

He had made it clear all day long that he wanted to talk with her about their argument the night before, and she had avoided it. She simply wasn’t ready to hear all his excuses and justifications. She wasn’t interested in hearing about why he thought it was his right to invade both her privacy and Adam’s. Trust had been everything to them over the years. It had been the cornerstone of both their friendship and their partnership. And when she had gone to him just months ago with valid questions about who Diana Fowley really was – about her motives and allegiances, Mulder had trivialized her concerns, had made her feel foolish in front of the Gunmen, and had called into question that very same trust. Well, he couldn’t have it both ways – either it was personal between them or it wasn’t.

She turned off the water and stepped from the shower, making her way to the bedroom where she discovered that she had exactly one pair of clean pajamas left. They were the blue silk ones, her favorite, and she slid the soft material on over damp skin. She’d need to get to her laundry in the next day or two. It was typically something she took care of on the weekend, but since she had spent all but a few hours of the past weekend at Adam’s house, it didn’t get done. Nor did the cleaning, she thought wryly, padding to the kitchen in bare feet and searching her cupboard for a clean mug. Nor the shopping, she realized, rooting around for a tea bag.  There was something rather alluring about irresponsibility that stemmed from too many hours spent in a man’s bed. When was the last time that happened? Don’t think about it, Dana. Before this weekend, an account of your sexual escapades over the past five years would have bored the Pope.      

She carried her mug of tea to the living room, lit two candles, and loaded a CD into the stereo before tucking her legs beneath her on the sofa and sorting through her mail. She was smiling at two photos of her sixteenth-month old nephew that Tara had mailed her in a card when a soft knock at the door startled her. She glanced at the clock. 10:40. 

She walked across the room and peered through the peephole cautiously before swinging the door open without bothering to grab a bathrobe. It wasn’t the first time he’d shown up on her doorstep when she was in her pajamas. The fiftieth time might’ve been closer to accurate.

“What is it, Mulder?” Her voice expressed genuine concern. “Is it something with the case?”

“Hi, Scully. Is this a bad time?” He peered nervously behind her into the candlelit living room. Soft music trickled through the doorway and she sighed, not having to stretch her brain a whole lot to figure out what assumptions he might be making given the time of night and her state of undress.

“No, it’s fine. I was just having a cup of tea and reading through some mail.”

He waited uncomfortably, rocking on his heels and avoiding direct eye contact with her.

She blinked slowly at him. Just watching him was making her uneasy. “Do you want to come in?”

He nodded. “If it’s okay.”

She moved aside and he breezed past her, seemingly relieved.  

She expected him to sit down and make himself at home like he always did, but he stood there, both hands thrust into his pockets. “Do you want some tea?” she offered, suspecting he might actually need something stronger, but she wasn’t going to give it to him. The last thing she needed tonight was for him to get drunk and sleep on her couch. He shook his head, declining her offer.

His hair was spiky and damp against his collar. Now that she noticed it, his clothing was soaked, dripping water into a puddle beneath him on her hardwood floors. Without a word, she went to the bathroom to get him a towel. He took it from her when she offered it, but did little more than hang it around his neck effortlessly. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s raining.”

She gave up trying to figure out where this was going and was too tired to play games. “Mulder, it’s late.” She waived a hand exhaustively. “If you’re here to finish where you left off last night, then I can tell you right now that I’m not up for-“

“I’m in love with you.”

Her head snapped up and her mouth hung open. Her eyes stung like she’d been slapped. “What did you just say?” she whispered, her words catching in the back of her throat.  She must have heard him wrong, but the look on his face made her certain she hadn’t.

He stood statuesque, staring at the floor, unblinking. The candlelight illuminated his profile, flickering gold against his five o’clock shadow and making his eyes look shiny and wet. Neither of them moved a muscle for what felt like eternity. Finally, painfully, he raised his head and made eye contact with her. His voice was even and low. “Scully, I only meant to come here to apologize. I didn’t mean to-I know you’re with someone else now. But when you opened the door and I saw you and thought…I thought he was here, I couldn’t help myself. You have to know how I feel.”

She staggered backwards a step and placed a hand on the arm of the sofa to steady herself. “How long?” she choked out. “How long have you known?”

He closed his eyes slowly and then opened them before holding her gaze so deeply and steadily that it was all the answer she needed.

Her hand went to her mouth and she shook her head slowly. “Oh God,” she whispered. Her eyes swam. “Your hallway…the kiss-“

“Way before then,” he admitted, quietly. “I-I’m not sure exactly. It didn’t happen overnight.”

She swallowed hard, harnessing her emotions and feeling the anger swell inside her. “How dare you do this now, Mulder? How dare you come here and tell me this. After everything, after all we’ve been through. You have no idea what it’s been like these last few months….after years of earning your trust, of fighting this fight with you, of everything I’ve sacrificed…to then have you simply give that trust away to someone else like it means nothing…” Her last words were swallowed in a sob and she turned away from him. The tears came and she refused to let him see them.

“Scully, hey,” his voice was a strangled whisper and she felt the heat of him as he moved closer to her. “God, I don’t know what to say… I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

Please don’t touch me, she thought, her arms wrapped tightly around herself like armor. Please, please don’t because there would be no surviving it. She would crumble like sand beneath his touch. She had never felt so fragile in his presence, not even when she had her cancer.

“You have every right to be angry with me. I expect it and deserve it. But believe me when I tell you that you’re the last person in the world I ever meant to hurt. You’ve been there for me, believed in me when nobody else did and I can’t imagine not having you in my life, Scully.”

She breathed slowly and deeply with eyes closed tight, gathering up her straying emotions and forcing them into something compact and small that she could stuff into a pocket. “How can you say that to me?” she asked, voice steady. “How can you tell me you’re in love with me when you’re with someone else?”

“What are you talking about?”

She spun to face him head-on. The look in her eyes warned him she wasn’t playing games.

He appeared completely flabbergasted for a brief moment before awareness settled in. “Diana? You think I’m seeing Diana?”

“Aren’t you?”

His mouth formed words that never materialized as he shook head. “I-why would you-I never-“ He sighed deeply and ran a shaky hand through his hair. “No, Scully. I am not seeing Diana. At least not in the way you’re suggesting.”

“You’re not?”

“No! Not even a little bit. Why would you think that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” She waived an exasperated hand through the air. “She calls you on your cell phone twenty times a day, you dart off at a moment’s notice to ‘assist’ her on a case,” she couldn’t help adding an eye roll to that. “She’s at your apartment at six in the morning, she has a key, and you seem hell bent on defending her…at all costs.” The last few words were barely choked out in anguish.

He locked eyes with her. “No, Scully. Not at all costs.”

She shook her head and her gaze drifted toward the ceiling as she bit back the emotion one more time. Her arms crossed over her chest and she sucked in her trembling bottom lip.

“There is nothing romantic between Diana and me. Not anymore. There used to be, I don’t think I need to tell you that. It ended a long time ago.”

“Maybe you ought to tell her that.”

“I have. More than once. I-I’m sorry if it looked bad. She had a case that she needed help with and it interested me. I got caught up in it. The morning that she was at my apartment-“

“You don’t need to explain it to me, Mulder. It’s none of my business.”

“I want to, Scully. I want it to be your business.” His face was sober.

She sighed, but remained quiet, giving him the silent invitation to continue.

“The morning she was at my apartment, she showed up unannounced. She showed me the case file and asked for my help. It was a similar case to one we had worked  together years ago, so I agreed. She did not spend the night at my apartment – not that night or any others in the past seven years. And she doesn’t have a key to my apartment. I lent her one that day because I had files there that she needed to pick up and I knew I’d be on Solomon’s Island. I got the key back from her the next day. That’s it, Scully, that’s all there is to it.”

She offered a slight shrug and her gaze shifted over him, considering.

“I’m not in love with Diana; I am in love with you. And I suspect she knows that. She’s a smart woman.”

Scully quirked an eyebrow and looked down.

He sighed deeply. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you are with someone else. And I’m a complete idiot.”

A small huff escaped her and she almost smiled at his painful honesty. Almost.

“Mulder, it’s not just about whether or not you’ve been seeing Diana Fowley. It’s about everything you and I have worked years for, about everything we’ve lost, everything that has been taken from us…” Her voice caught in her throat and she raised a hand to her mouth, swallowing the tears. “The only thing that has kept me going through it all has been knowing that we were in it together. That we supported and cared for each other. That we trusted each other, above all else. But when you called that trust into question,” she shook her head, “you have no idea how much that hurt.” She leveled him with clear, honest eyes. “I’ve never felt more alone that I have these past few months, Mulder.”

She heard him make a strangled sound and move in closer to her. “Scully, I do trust you. God, I don’t know why the hell I act the way I do sometimes. I-I get so singularly focused that…sometimes I lose sight of what really matters.” He raised a hand as if to touch her and her entire body tightened. He pulled away. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I do trust you. In fact, you’re the only one I trust.”

She closed her eyes and nodded, unable to manage words without breaking down and she refused to do that. Nothing was said and time moved glacially, the air surrounding them thick with honesty and pain. When she opened her eyes, he was staring into them and what she saw there took her breath away.

“So I’m going to say what I need to say to you and then I’m going to leave. Because it’s all I’ve got, Scully. A bigger man would walk away and let you be happy, but I’m not that man. I’m the guy who demanded your loyalty and trust from day one and expected you to make my quest your own, at the expense of just about everything and everyone in your life. I’m the guy who ditched you repeatedly to run off chasing God-knows-what while you were left to clean up the mess I left behind. I’m the man you’ve lied to protect, defied authority, and put your career on the line for again and again. I’m the one you’ve risked your life for without a second thought. I am the one you’ve sacrificed for – countless things, unspeakable things – things I can never replace or make right, although I’d give my life to do so. And I am the man, the partner who has treated you inexcusably these past few months, who has caused you to doubt that which matters most between us – the trust that we’ve built everything on.”

His eyes searched her face and she couldn’t stop herself from biting her lip in a sob. “I think you might be selling yourself too hard,” she said, managing a smile and he chuffed, his own eyes brimming.  

“I know I don’t deserve it, Scully, but I’m asking for another chance. I am in love with you – miserably and wonderfully in love with you. And I don’t know if you feel the same way. I thought maybe you did, but now…well.” He nodded his head in finality. “Whatever you decide, I’ll respect your decision, but I’m asking you, Scully…pick me. I’m throwing my hat in the ring. I’ve got nothing going for me, except a good dose of neuroses, questionable sanity, a really messy apartment and the fact that I love you so much I can’t see straight. If you feel the same, if there’s anything left, then pick me. Take a chance. And I promise you I will spend each and every day convincing you that you made the right decision.”

She opened and closed her mouth, at a complete loss for words. “Mulder, I-“ she sighed. “I can’t even think-“

“Don’t say anything now,” he pleaded. “Just think about it, Scully. Please. I’ll wait, for as long as it takes. I’m not going anywhere. But just one more thing, and you’re probably going to clock me a good one for this, but I’ll take my chances.”

He moved toward her quickly and his palms were cupping her face before she even had the chance to react. He bent down and pressed his lips tightly to hers. Her eyes flew open wide for a second before fluttering shut. OhmyGod. He tilted his face, his mouth making more solid contact with hers and she whimpered. Did she actually whimper? OhmyGod. She heard the softest moan escape him in response. Oh yes, she had definitely whimpered. Every muscle in her body had turned to liquid and her extremities tingled. Her arms, which had fallen to her sides, now rose without her permission. One went to rest at his waist, the other cupped his elbow and squeezed. She was startled when she felt his tongue swipe tentatively at her bottom lip, then retreat like nothing had happened. But not before her stomach flipped and her nipples tightened against her silk pajama top in response. OhmyGod, this was not happening, dammit. He was not doing this to her.

She placed a palm flat to his chest and pressed firmly until his lips released her with an audible pop. She gasped and he looked at her with hooded eyes, taking labored breaths. “Mulder!”

A look of complete awe settled over his face. “Scully, that was…” a slight smile, one that she could only describe as satisfied, gradually formed on his mouth as he struggled for air.   

She crossed her arms quickly over her chest to hide her body’s traitorous response, but judging by the  way his hungry eyes raked over her, she hadn’t been fast enough. She took several steps back from him, dizzy and disoriented. “You need to-to go, Mulder.”

He nodded, contritely. “I know. I’m going.” He hesitated for a moment, as if he wished she would stop him. Then he turned and walked out the door. She closed her eyes and let the tears come.

 

*******


	23. Chapter 23

Mulder was completely wired when he left Scully’s apartment. He spent over an hour driving in circles, aimlessly down side streets, through sections of the District he had never seen before after midnight and probably didn’t want to.

He stopped at a light and a very young girl with golden brown hair, a red leather miniskirt, and way too much eye makeup approached his vehicle and leaned in through the open passenger side window. “You want some company, baby?” She blew cigarette smoke into his car and he wrinkled his nose.

“How old are you?” he asked, sadly. She couldn’t have been more than Amy Rhodes’ age.

Her eyes narrowed. “Old enough. What are you, a fucking cop?”

Mulder reached into his jacket and pulled his badge, flipping it open with an apologetic look.

“Shit! You got to be fucking kidding me. You’re a fucking fed?”

The light turned green and the car behind him laid on the horn. Mulder pulled a hundred dollar bill from his wallet and handed it through the window to the girl. Her eyes grew wide. “Go get yourself something to eat and a safe place to stay for the night.” Then on second thought, he added his FBI contact card. “If you ever want to get off the street, give me a call.”

She snatched the bill, folded it and tucked it inside her tight shirt, looking around her uneasily. “Yeah, what’re you gonna do, Daddy Warbucks, marry me?”

The car behind him beeped again and Mulder glanced in the rearview mirror and frowned. Go the fuck around. “There’s a halfway house over on Grant Avenue,” he said to her, hopeful. “I can give you a ride.” He hit the unlock button and waited. The car behind squealed its tires and sped around him, giving him the finger.

The girl hesitated a few seconds and took a drag off her cigarette before dropping it to the pavement and turning to walk away. “Nah, but thanks anyway.”

He realized as he pulled away there was about a ninety percent chance that his money would be going right up her nose or in a vein. He swore under his breath. He couldn’t save them all. He couldn’t even bring justice to the one he was supposed to be seeking retribution for. Did he think that giving a hundred bucks to a prostitute was going to change any of that?     

He resisted the strong urge to drive by a liquor store and instead went home and changed into his running clothes. His mind was far from sleep and he hadn’t the interest or the patience to sooth the wounds with the usual panacea, he realized, eyeing his video collection, disdainfully. There were some thoughts that no amount of empty, hollow pleasure could distract him from. Specifically, images of a certain redhead with eyes the color of heaven and arms he wished would wrap themselves around him and never let go.

How had this happened? How had he managed to hurt her so badly? He had seen her shattered before, but never by him, and he couldn’t get the image of those big, blue eyes out of his head, overflowing with pain and truth. He loathed what he had done.

And he had no idea where to go or what to do next. So he ran. Down empty streets, through quiet parks, pounding the pavement for hours until he couldn’t feel anything, but overwhelming exhaustion and a numbness that started in his bones and spread gradually through every cell in his body. It was after 3 a.m. when he collapsed inside his apartment door, sweaty and spent and bleary enough to fall into a fitful sleep.

 

*******

After Mulder left her apartment, Scully had what her mother would call ‘a good cry’ before she climbed between her sheets and turned out the light, determined for sleep to bring some kind of relief. An hour and a half, two bathroom trips, and countless tossing and turning later, she surrendered with a desperate sigh and sat up in bed. She flipped on the light and swore out loud. That felt good, so she swore again, this time a string of colorful words that made her face feel warm.

She flung the covers aside and got out of bed, stalking off toward the kitchen, considering other words she felt like saying, specifically insults aimed at a certain someone whom she could still taste on her lips. Even now, thinking about it hours later, she felt her respiration increase and a flush settle over her upper body. Her breasts tingled and her nipples hardened involuntarily remembering what it felt like being pressed tightly to his toned stomach as he kissed the hell out of her. 

Opening a cupboard, she pushed aside spices, baking supplies, cans of soup, and a stale box of crackers until her hand settled around a bottle of Irish whiskey, still two-thirds full. She pulled it down onto the counter with a thud and twisted the cap off, giving a second of honest thought to just swilling from the damn bottle before she conceded to taking a clean glass from the strainer. Filling the tumbler with the equivalent of at least a couple shots worth, she swirled it before taking a generous gulp. The liquid burned like fire all the way down her esophagus and settled in her stomach like battery acid. Ugh. It had sure gone down much easier in college. She tossed out the stale crackers and only paused a split second before pulling down the bag of unopened chocolate chips from her baking supply. Another healthy shot of whiskey was poured into the glass before she carried the drink and the chocolate back to her bedroom.

She settled everything on her nightstand and then crouched to the floor and began rooting around under her bed. Was it here or had she left it at her mother’s house? There were still a few boxes of her old things in her mom’s attic, keepsakes and papers she had written in college that her mother refused to throw away. Spotting her target, she stretched further and grasped the edge of a tattered, dusty red vinyl photo album. She slid it out and wiped the cover with a tissue before tumbling back onto the bed in victory, legs crossed beneath her. She took another swallow of whiskey before opening the cover of the album. It creaked in protest.

“Oh God,” she said, smiling down at the first page of photos. There she was, staring back up in her Kelly green prom dress and matching satin shoes, a white flower tucked into her long hair. She looked like a leprechaun. Marcus stood next to her in his black tuxedo and green cummerbund, one arm around her waist and a ridiculously giddy look on his face. Yeah, she knew that look. It was the expression of a seventeen-year-old kid who thought he was about five hours away from getting some. She chuckled and took another swig of whiskey. “Tough luck, Marcus,” she said aloud, flipping the page.

More prom photos, some with her mother’s thumb in front of the lens. One of Marcus’s car, a mustard yellow Dodge Dart. Oh how he loved that stupid car. He used to wash and wax it every weekend. The first time she ever went to third base was in the backseat of that car.

She gasped when she flipped the page and saw a photo of herself on her eighteenth birthday. She was seated at their dining room table, in front of a cake with lit candles, wearing…oh God, a turtleneck with a fuzzy pink sweater, and a tiara. But the outfit had nothing on the hair, perfectly-styled, big flippy curls that framed her face.  The cake was chocolate fudge with raspberry filling, her favorite. Her mother made it for her every year on her birthday, for as long as she could remember. There were gifts on the table, shiny little packages with ribbons in blue and silver, but she couldn’t remember what had been inside them. She did remember that after cake, she begged off to go out with her friends. No, Mom, we don’t have anything special planned, we’re just going to order pizza and watch movies at Jenny’s house. Yes, Daddy, her parents will be there. No thanks, I don’t need a ride, Ellen is picking me up. No, nobody else is going, just us girls. Yes, I’ll call you if I need anything. Yes, I’ll be home in time for church tomorrow morning.

As it turned out, Jenny’s parents had been in Hawaii and her little brother spent the night at a friend’s house. Marcus and his friends showed up a little after ten with four cases of beer and several bottles of Absolut that somebody had purchased with a fake ID. Jenny’s boyfriend, Dan, arrived soon after with most of the varsity swim team and a bunch of their friends. And more beer. It was only supposed to have been a few friends, but the scene quickly spiraled into a John Hughes film.

Her mother had been up before the sun the next morning, drinking her coffee, when Dana had stumbled in the back door, like a mouse into a trap. Without a word, her mom had risen and walked to the sink to fill a tall glass of water, then presented it to her with two aspirin and a stern recommendation that she get a couple hours of sleep before mass. “Please don’t tell Daddy,” Dana had begged. Her mother had smiled patiently. “Oh Dana, you’re not the only one who’s ever been eighteen.”   

The next several pages were pictures of graduation. It had been sweltering hot that day and the ceremony had been outdoors. She recalled feeling like she was going to pass out in her black cap and gown. She smiled at a shot of her with her two closet friends, Jenny Hayes and Ellen Kirkwood, all holding their diplomas, arms slung casually around shoulders, big toothy smiles that said, “Look out world, here we come!”

The next photo made her breath catch in her throat. It was still from graduation day, but standing next to her, with arms wrapped tightly around her in a hug, was Missy. She was wearing that pretty floral sundress that they used to fight over all the time. Missy had been a couple of inches taller than Dana, making it difficult to share many articles of clothing, but some dresses had fit them both and this was one of them. In all truthfulness, it had fit Missy better in the bust, but Dana would never have admitted that. Looking at the photo now, her eyes filled with tears. She’d give anything to have her sister here now to fight with over stupid dresses. Her finger caressed the edge of the picture. “I miss you so much,” she whispered.

She grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her eyes before turning the page.

And there he was. An affectionate smile grew on her face. She felt like she was instantly transported back in time. The photo of her and Adam together had been taken only weeks after they started dating. It was at night, on the beach, where a small group of friends had built a bonfire. They were stretched over a blanket on the sand, one of Adam’s hands tangled with hers, the other cradling his acoustic guitar. His hair had fallen in unruly, soft curls around his neck back then, his face clean shaven and so innocent looking.  Her own hair was longer than it had ever been since, falling in ginger waves to nearly the middle of her back, two thin braids framing her face. She was wearing his sweatshirt – a grey hooded one with NAVY in dark blue lettering across the front. When they left for college at the end of that magical summer, she had taken that sweatshirt with her and slept in it her whole first semester.

More photos of the two of them followed. Fourth of July fireworks, sailing with friends, beach parties, lazy summer days and endless nights. One picture of her curled on her side in tall grass, smiling at the camera stopped her for a moment as the memory flooded back to her. It had been taken by Adam the afternoon they first made love. She smiled at her youthfulness, her sun-kissed freckles, and gentle, teasing smile. It hadn’t simply happened. They had planned to make love that day for the first time, after a few false starts in the weeks prior. She had waited in his car while Adam had purchased a box of condoms, climbing back behind the steering wheel, red-faced and nervous, tossing the plastic drugstore bag into her lap. She had gaped when she saw that he had purchased an economy size box of 36. “Adam!”   He had shrugged sheepishly. “They only had boxes of 12 or this big one. I didn’t want to risk running out.” Her virginal mind had been perplexed. She was pretty certain it should only take one.

She giggled now and sipped from her whiskey, remembering how innocent they had been. All in all, for a first time, it had gone amazingly well. Adam had been a careful and gentle lover. Hardly more experienced than she had been, but passionate and eager to please her. They had spent the summer learning together and as it turned out, it had been smart of Adam to get that box of 36 after all.

God, so much had changed since then. So much had been learned, lost, experienced, sacrificed, altered, realized. Were they even the same people they were back then? What a foolish question. She knew the answer to that – for her anyway, and she suspected, for him too. No matter how tempting it might be to go back, to want to recapture something so perfect and wonderful, the truth was, things changed. People changed. Life was a process, time was linear, and the past was the past. Who she was and what she thought she wanted out of life at eighteen was light years away from who she had become at thirty-five and what mattered to her now. It had all been so simple then. Part of her ached for that simplicity. But the rest of her knew that even if she had it, it wouldn’t be enough anymore.

The real question was where to go from here.

She closed the photo album, placed the empty glass on her nightstand and settled back into her fluffy bed pillows with an exasperated sigh. She had decisions to make and none of them were easy. Her head and her heart were pointing her down two very different roads and she suspected that, whichever route she chose, there’d be no going back. Despite her empirical mind, she’d give just about anything for a crystal ball or some Tarot cards to tell her what to do. If Missy were here, she’d tell her that she already knew the answer. That she’d known it all along and she just had to learn to listen to herself. And with that, she did what she hadn’t done in far too long, what she always fell back on when she didn’t know what else to do. She turned out the light, closed her eyes, and said a prayer.     

 

END PART EIGHT


	24. Chapter 24

PART NINE

McDonalds, Route 9, Calvert County 

 

Mulder set a tray down in front of her and she buried the urge to wrinkle her nose at the salad with the wiggly looking lump of chicken lying on top.

“Sorry, it’s all they’ve got, unless you want a slab of ground beef or something deep fried,” he said, unwrapping his Big Mac and sinking his mouth over it. The Second Cup Café would have a closed sign on the door for at least another day while Neil Bishop was held in custody, and there weren’t a lot of choices on Solomon’s Island for a quick bite during the off season. It had been either McDonalds or a little roadside stand called Doug’s Dog House. She had assumed it served hot dogs, but since there weren’t any cars in the parking lot at lunchtime, she figured they’d resist finding out.

They’d been busy all morning, conducting interviews together on pretty much anyone within a ten mile radius who’d ever had anything to do with Neil Bishop. So far, no big revelations. At the advice of his attorney, Neil had stopped answering their questions yesterday, and unless they turned up some kind of evidence to tie him to the murder of Amy Rhodes by the end of the day, the sheriff would have no choice but to release him. For this, and many reasons, it had been a tense morning.

Nothing had been said regarding their encounter the night before, but the air between them had been heavy and compressed. At times, she felt like she literally couldn’t breathe. He was being overly solicitous toward her – following her lead during the interrogations, making oddly placed comments about her insightful questions or her deductive reasoning. It was driving her crazy. She wanted to slap him and scream, “Snap out of it! Disagree with me! Argue with my theories! Say something that makes me want to stuff your ugly tie down your throat!” She couldn’t think straight unless he was challenging her or pissing her off, or Jesus, at least making suggestive innuendos. For the love of God, at least that.

He sucked down his milkshake and smiled politely at her.

His cell phone rang and he glanced at the number before answering with a frown. “Mulder. Sort of, we’re eating lunch. That’s okay, what’s up? No, I didn’t have time to look at the file last night. I’m not sure when, I've been a little busy.” He sighed. “Listen, can I call you back another time? I’m not sure. Okay, bye.”

He hung up and tucked his phone back into his jacket. His eyes darted to hers for a split second before retreating back down to his food. She stabbed at a cherry tomato diligently.

He cleared his throat. “So I’m thinking we could drive by the plant where Neil used to work before he and Sarah opened the coffee shop. Talk to some people he knew there. See if anyone is still in touch with him, if there were ever any incidents at work, that kind of thing. What do you think, Scully?”

She nodded thoughtfully through a mouthful of romaine and vinaigrette. Before she could even swallow and respond, he launched back in. “Unless…you think we should do something else. I’m open to suggestions. I mean, whatever you think…”

She tuned out, wanting to scream. This plays-nice-with-others version of Mulder had overstayed his welcome. She was choking on the platitudes.

His cell phone rang again. With a disgruntled sound, he silenced the ringer and tucked it back into his pocket. “So what do you say, Scully? Or there’s the neighbor, Goldberg-“

“Goldman,” she corrected.

“Yeah, him. The guy who helped Neil build his deck. His wife said he’d be home from work by now. We could go talk to him instead.” He stuffed two French fries into his mouth. “But I’m thinking do the former co-workers first before people start knocking off for the day, then hit the neighbor. What do you think?”

His cell phone rang again. This time she saw his jaw tighten. He pulled it from his jacket, glanced down at the incoming number, and punched the talk button. “What is it?” his tone was brisk. “No…not now, I can’t. I gave you all the input I have already. You’ve got what you need to work your case, I don’t know why you’re still calling me.” A pause as he listened. Scully could hear muffled, fast talking on the other end. She finished her salad and got up to take her tray to the garbage. When she got back, he was still listening, interjecting a “No” and a “Uh huh” here or there. She swung her jacket on and waived a hand toward the door, indicating that she’d wait outside.

He pulled the phone away from his ear slightly. “Wait,” he pleaded with her. “Hang on, I’m done here.”

Then back to his call. “I'm hanging up, but before I do, I need you to listen to me. Are you listening? Good. You and I are not partners anymore. You had a case that I thought I could contribute to and I did what I could. As far as I am concerned, you have what you need and I’m done. Whatever your reasons for continuing to call me under the ruse of still needing my help, they’re inappropriate and they’re beneath you, Diana. So I'll say this nicely this time and this time only, do not-“ He stopped talking bluntly and pulled the phone away from his ear with a startled look. “…call me again,” he finished in a whisper.

 He looked at Scully. “She hung up on me.”

Scully sucked the last bit of her Diet Pepsi through the straw until it made an undignified slurping sound. “Guess she doesn’t need your help anymore,” she deadpanned before walking away to toss the cup in the trash. She forced a very subtle smile off her face before she joined him at the car.

 

*******

By 6:30 that evening when they returned to the sheriff’s office, Mulder and Scully had learned that Neil Bishop used to be a punctual worker who made a lot of friends among his co-workers, but kept in touch with few. That he had never been formally reprimanded for anything, but had mediocre performance evaluations for the duration of his employment, captained the company softball team, and once got drunk at the annual Christmas party and made a pass at a twenty-year-old intern. It seems he’d always had a taste for the young ones, thought Mulder in disgust, wondering how long Bishop would last in maximum security prison. Unfortunately, nothing that they uncovered brought them any closer to being able to charge Neil Bishop with the murder of Amy Rhodes. By the time they reached the sheriff’s office, Neil had been released from custody pending further evidence. There needed to be a “what the fuck do we do now” discussion, but everyone was too tired and too pissed off to have it.

Scully had driven her own car to Solomon’s Island that morning, and Mulder didn’t have to ask where she was headed after they finished for the day. She didn’t change her clothes before she left the sheriff’s office, which meant she probably had a bag with her. Which meant she was probably not going to be sleeping in her own apartment that night.

Which meant that Mulder really needed a stiff drink.

 

*******

Adam’s House

 

A happy bark and a wagging tail greeted her at the front door. “He’s been waiting for you,” said Adam, smiling and planting a warm kiss on her lips. “How was your day?”

She fixed him with a look that said it all and oozed out of her high heels, flinging her jacket over a chair.

“That good, huh. Do you want a glass of wine? I think I’ve got some red around here somewhere.” He started toward the kitchen and she stopped him with a hand to the elbow.

“No, I’m fine. I just…” she clicked her tongue and fell into his embrace, resting her face on his shoulder.

“Hey-“ His arms went to her back, rubbing gentle circles, and he nosed her hair. It felt good to be held. As the tension of the day trickled out of her, it was replaced by unbidden emotion. Her eyes filled. He pulled back to gaze down at her with concern. “What is it?”

She shook her head and looked down.

He cupped her face and his thumb caressed her cheekbone. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She sighed deeply. “I don’t know where to start.”

He nodded, understandingly, and kissed her hair. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.” He embraced her tightly again, rubbing her back. “I ordered dinner, but it can wait. How about if you go upstairs and relax in a hot tub for awhile?”

The idea sounded heavenly. She nodded with gratitude and started toward the staircase. “Use the bath off the master bedroom,” he called to her. “The tub has jets.” Brilliant, she thought. She could definitely get used to this.

She had been soaking in a pile of bubbles for about ten minutes when a soft rap sounded at the bathroom door. “Come in.”

The door popped open very slowly and he entered, padding across the tiles in his bare feet, carrying a stack of fluffy white towels. “I, uh, think I forgot to stock the clean towels when I did laundry,” he said shyly, being overly careful not to look directly at her lounging form. He placed the stack down on a stool next to the tub and a blue ceramic mug next to her head. “Tea. Be careful, it’s hot.”

She smiled up at him. “Thank you.” Her fingers rose up from the depths to play in the bubbles as she shifted herself lower into the hot water and hummed. “I’m liable to fall asleep right here if I’m not careful.”

He chuckled. “You might wind up with a nose full of bubbles.” He stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, eyes still averted, although it was unnecessary. Only her head and shoulders were visible above the clusters of bubbles. A fleeting thought ran through her head that perhaps he was expecting her to invite him in. Before she could decide how she felt about the idea, he turned to leave. “Take your time. If I don’t hear anything from you in an hour, I’ll come back up with my SCUBA gear.”

She laughed quietly and reached for the hot mug of tea.

After a nice long reprieve, she drained the water from the tub and dried off, quickly realizing that she had forgotten to bring her bag upstairs with her and had absolutely nothing to put on. Shit. It was either a towel or…she looked around the room and spotted a terry robe on the back of the bathroom door. His. She smiled and pulled it down. It was navy blue and thick and fell to her ankles. The sleeves were long and she had to roll them up several times. It smelled like him and she turned her nose into the collar and breathed deeply. Masculine and clean, like pine and cotton and just the faintest whiff of mint, like toothpaste. She cinched the long belt tightly and left her hair clipped up off her shoulders, then made her way downstairs to retrieve her bag.

His back was to her, stoking the fire, when she reached the bottom. She could smell something warm and spicy wafting from the kitchen and her stomach took notice. It had been seven hours since she’d eaten the salad at McDonalds and she was starved. She cleared her throat and he spun around.

A grin spread across his face when he saw her there wearing his robe, bare feet peeking out from underneath, edges of her hair dripping. “I, um, forgot to bring my bag up to the bathroom. I hope you don’t mind.”

He walked to her, still smiling, and tilted her chin up with his thumb. “You…may wear anything you like of mine…anytime you want to.” He planted a lingering kiss on her lips.

“It smells good,” she said.

“Indian food. Tandoori chicken, curried vegetables, and garlic naan.”

She arched a brow at him.

He chuckled. “I didn’t make it. I’m not that good. Takeout.”

“I’ll get changed. I’ll only be another minute.”

He drew a deep breath and traced her collarbone, then down to the line where the top of the robe rested just above her breast. His fingers tickled and she shuddered. “If you want to,” he said with heavy-lidded eyes. “Or this is nice.”

With great effort, and more than a few second thoughts, she gently pried herself away and found her bag where she had dropped it, right inside the front door. She took it upstairs and quickly changed into comfortable jeans and a casual blouse. When she got back downstairs, he had a smorgasbord of food laid out for her and she gratefully dove in, feeling more relaxed than she had all day.

 

*******

 Bluewater Tavern

 

It looked like a decent enough place and it was the closest watering hole to the sheriff’s office, so Mulder walked in. It was surprisingly large inside, complete with a small dance floor and booths lining the walls. There were a handful of people seated at the bar and three guys playing pool in the back. All eyes turned toward him when he walked through the door, then just as quickly away in disinterest. It looked like the type of place a guy might come to ‘drink her off his mind.’ It looked like exactly what he needed. He slipped onto a bar stool and ordered a scotch.

Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was already after ten o’clock. He had lingered well past when both Scully and Sheriff Fletcher left for the day, staring aimlessly at the case file, mentally willing a revelation to come to him. Anything that might help them build a case against Neil Bishop. A lengthy discussion with the district attorney that afternoon had made it clear that what little they did have would never bring a conviction in court. And so Neil Bishop slept in his bed that night, a free man. But not for long, if Mulder had anything to do with it. He didn’t know how much longer he could justify keeping them there on the case, however, without some kind of break. Skinner had called that morning, asking about their progress and hinting that they should consider pulling out and leaving the case to the local authorities. Mulder bargained for a couple more days, but he had the feeling he’d be hard pressed to convince his boss that the case justified more time than that.

Mulder couldn’t help but think about what things would be like once they weren’t spending their days on Solomon’s Island anymore. God, it had seemed like ages ago. So much had happened. Would she keep seeing *him*? Mulder couldn’t think of any reason why she wouldn’t. Unless it really was just a fling. Uncharacteristic of Scully, but certainly not unimaginable.  What did he honestly know about her romantic life anyway? He had just assumed that, like him, she had none. It challenged every rational cell in his brain to think that perhaps there had been liaisons with men since he’d known her, even relationships. Was that possible?

The image of her wearing Adam’s shirt and sitting in his lap flooded Mulder’s mind. The way the hem inched higher to reveal a toned, creamy thigh, the way her hair had been tousled and untamed, the way her voice sounded – teasing, provocative, inviting – like the purr of an engine. It was a side of her he’d never seen before, as if he had been observing a creature in its wild habitat. He found it hypnotically arousing. Within seconds he was rock hard. He cursed his fickle male anatomy and shifted his stool closer to the bar, hiding his condition. Several more drinks ought to take care of that, he thought, gesturing to the bartender for a refill.

 

*******


	25. Chapter 25

Adam’s House

“Will you play for me?” she asked, sleepily, rolling her chin across his chest to glance up at him. The fire crackled and sparked, at times loudly enough to cause Moses to lift his head from the area rug and give it a chastising look before groaning and resuming his slumber. This was a dog that knew how to sleep, she thought. The layers of his thick, feathery coat shone a blue-black in the glow of the fire light and his mammoth paws twitched fitfully as he dreamt of brave adventures.

They were a twist of limbs atop the sofa in denim and bare feet. He slid out from under her and picked up his guitar, propping a foot up on an ottoman and resting the instrument on his knee. A tortoise shell brown guitar pick was pinched between his lips as he tuned. The wrinkle between his brows told her that this was a thoughtful process, so she settled onto her side with her head pillowed on her bent arm and watched him.

She looked at his bare foot, perched in front of her. He had nice feet. They matched his hands, well-proportioned and muscular, smooth and tan and not too hairy. Nice feet. The muscles in his upper arms flexed against the cotton of his tee shirt as he tightened strings. Nice everything. She thought about the way his chest rippled when he was moving above her, pushing into her. The way the stubble on his face felt against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Something subtle but needy ignited deep inside her. She clenched her vaginal muscles and shifted her hips, feeling the seam of her jeans press into her.

This was lust. There was no question in her mind about that. Of course, she cared for him. She had once been deeply in love with this man and it had been real, regardless of the fact that she’d only been eighteen. Like her, he had matured. He wasn’t the same person he was all those years ago. And yet, she couldn’t deny the fact that she liked the man he had become. He was thoughtful and kind and tender and compassionate. He made her laugh and she felt wonderful when she was with him. And there was no doubt in her mind that she was dancing on the edge of a cliff. She could fall so easily. It would take almost no effort at all.      

“Dana?”

She startled. He had been saying something to her and she had been completely inside her head. “Hmm?” Her cheeks felt warm and pink, but she hoped he’d attribute it to the fireplace.

He watched her for a long moment, a curious smile playing on his mouth. “I asked you what you wanted to hear.”

“Oh, um. Surprise me. Something mellow.”

He began to strum and she sighed and pressed her back into the soft cushions, drifting. She recognized the song, but couldn’t name it – one she’d heard a thousand times through college dorm room walls – Led Zeppelin or Cream or-

“Pink Floyd,” he said, smiling, reading the working frown on her face. “Wish You Were Here.”

“Mm yeah, that’s right,” she chuckled. “I had a house mate in med school who played The Dark Side of the Moon album non-stop.”

He arched two brows and the song morphed into the first few bars of Us and Them before circling back into Wish You Were Here. She grinned. “That’s a neat trick. Got any others?”

He tilted his head, suggestively. “Maybe later.”

As the song ended, she said, “Play something you used to play. On the beach.”

He strummed absently for a minute, thinking, then launched into Tequila Sunrise and she smiled and began mouthing the words she knew by heart. She could almost see him sitting there on the sand, playing for her, just like it was all those years ago and they hadn’t a care in the world.

 

******* 

Bluewater Tavern

  

Mulder knocked once on the shiny wooden bar and pointed to his empty glass. The bartender eyed him critically and hesitated. “Maybe a tonic water?” he suggested. “Always good to pace yourself.”

Mulder pointed again and unfolded another twenty dollar bill. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Dave.”

“Well, Dave. I’m pretty sure a tonic water isn’t going to cut it.”

Dave shook his head with a slight smile and poured the clear liquid from the bottle. “Last one, okay? You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

Mulder took a long, grateful swallow, embracing the numbness. He’d pretty much lost all feeling in his extremities now and he could only pray that his brain would be next. If he could just stop thinking about her, he’d be fine. After all, he’d spent almost the first thirty years of his life blissfully unaware that she even existed and he’d managed to function fairly well. So he’d do that then – not think about her. Starting…now.

His mind wandered to plump melon-colored lips and tiny willow hands. Damn. Okay, try again. Starting…now. Another gulp of scotch, burning and twisting toward his core. Yes, he could do this. Piece of cake. Just a woman. He’d gotten over them before.

Silky cool tresses that slipped through his fingers, the pristine slope of her neck just begging to be marked by him, the spot behind her ear lobe that he knew with absolute certainty would make her shudder when he kissed it.

Shit fuck. There weren’t enough drinks in the world to make him forget last night’s kiss. Not even close. He swore under his breath and downed another swallow.

Dave eyed him sympathetically. “That bad, huh?”

Mulder shrugged, swirling the ice cubes in his glass.

“She worth it?”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

Dave blinked heavily and shook his head. “Sorry to hear that, Man.”

Mulder looked around and noted that the bar had emptied. He pushed his empty glass away and got up to go take a piss, steadying himself with a hand to the counter. “Do you think you could call me a cab, Dave?”

“You got it.”

Mulder slogged his way to the men’s room and stood at a urinal for days, until his eyeballs were no longer floating, then returned to the bar. The apologetic look on Dave’s face was not encouraging. Mulder wondered if perhaps he had neglected to zip his fly or something. He glanced down, self-consciously, and swayed like a palm tree.

“Bad news, Pal,” said Dave. “Cab company’s only got one car working tonight and it just left on a run to Mechanicsville.”

“So call another one,” suggested Mulder.

“I would. But there’s only one taxi service operating on the Island until after Memorial Day. It’s the off season.”

Right.  The off season. It was said by locals like it was only slightly less noteworthy than the apocalypse. If he had a nickel for every time he’d heard that excuse in the past week.

“You got anyone you could call?” Dave asked, flipping off some lights behind the bar and wiping down the counters.

Shit. Mulder looked at his watch. The numbers swam in circles and his eyes chased them. He could make out enough to know that it was late. He’d rather walk the fifty miles to Alexandria than call her right now. He had no idea if she was awake or asleep, but what he did know was that she was in another man’s bed. And the thought made his stomach lurch. “Yeah, there’s someone I can call,” Mulder said, with a deep sigh.

He dialed and waited until a sleepy voice picked up on the fifth ring, trying to sound alert and ready for God-knows-what. “Lo. This is Sheriff Fletcher and it better be good.”

“Heeey Fletcher,” he slurred. “It’s Agent Mulder. Sorry ‘bout the late hour. Listen, I hate to ask this, but…”

 

*******

 

 Adam’s House

 

The fire had died to embers. She felt infinitely warm and relaxed lying against him on the couch. They had been dozing for the better part of an hour, his slightly rough fingers under the hem of her blouse, skittering back and forth over her lower back like flower petals.

“I should go,” she sighed, not moving a muscle. She might want to be talked out of it, she wasn’t sure.

He tilted her chin up and sought her lips, pecking at them gently. “Mmm, it’s late. I thought you were going to stay.” His gaze was hopeful and aroused.

Her lids drifted shut and she kissed him back, welcoming his tongue into her mouth. His embrace tightened and his hands moved higher underneath her shirt. She moaned as their tongues slid and teased. He unsnapped the hooks on the back of her bra and slipped one hand under to cup her breast, thumbing her nipple. She felt him grow stiff against her stomach, pressing into her, prodding. Eager, but not demanding. His chest rose and fell rapidly and he groaned into her mouth.

“Bedroom?” he whispered through staccato breaths. She hesitated just a fraction and her muscles tightened, but it was enough for him to notice. He stopped pressing his erection into her and pulled back, looking into her eyes. “You okay?”

Her bottom lip trembled and she tucked her face into his shoulder, shuddering as her eyes filled.

“Oh hey, what is it? What’s wrong?” He gently finger combed her hair from her face. “Did I do something?”

She shook her head against him, her voice catching in her throat. “No, I’m sorry.”

His touch lightened then and he eyed her with real concern. “I didn’t mean to push. It’s okay, we can just go to sleep if you’re tired, that’s fine.”

“No, no.” She sniffed. “It’s not that. It’s…Oh God Adam…” She allowed a sob to escape her. “I’m so confused.”

His face sobered and he pulled to a sitting position, taking her gently with him. He appeared to be slightly terrified and she released a nervous huff and a weak smile. “I’m sorry,” she pleaded again, biting her bottom lip as her eyes drifted upward. “I didn’t come over here tonight planning to fall apart like this.”

“Something’s happened,” he whispered, knowingly.

She took a deep, cleansing breath and nodded.

He reached and took her hand gingerly, holding it between his own, and waited for her. She couldn’t hide how she was feeling from him. It wasn’t fair to either of them, and it was eating her from the inside out. He deserved her honesty.

“Last night, Mulder came by my apartment. Late.” Her voice crackled and broke with emotion. “And he um, he…told me that he’s in love with me.”

Adam took a long, deep breath and held it for several seconds. Then released it. “Wow. Um…” He swallowed hard. “Wow.”

She closed her eyes and nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

After what seemed like forever, he found his voice again. “Did this confession come out of nowhere?”

“Yes... no.” She bit her lip and looked down, shaking her head. “I don’t know…I thought he didn’t…for so long we were just…and then I thought for sure, but nothing…” She sighed and put her face in her hands. “I’m not making any sense. God, I must sound ridiculous.”

“No. No, you don’t.” He reached to peel one hand from her face and held it. “I can’t say that it comes as a complete surprise.”

She looked at him, astonished. “It doesn’t?”

He shrugged, offering a weak, resigned smile. “He makes you more than a little bit crazy. There has only been one woman who’s made me that crazy – and I loved her like a hurricane.”

She slammed her eyed shut and bit back a sob. “Oh God.”

When she opened them again, trying to focus through the tears, he was studying her carefully. “So I guess the only question left is…are you in love with him too?”

All she could manage was a long, pleading look. It was enough.

His hand tightened on hers as he sucked in a long breath. “Okay…wow.”

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want this, Adam,” she jumped in. “Whatever this is between us…it’s good. It’s just so good.” God, she hadn’t wanted to cry like this. She had been bound and determined not to. But fuck it, she was crying. She swept at her damp cheeks and shook her head futilely. “I’ve had one of the best weeks of my life. And I don’t want to give it up.”

He smiled gently. “It has been pretty amazing, hasn’t it?”

“I care about you so much. I love being with you and you make me laugh like I haven’t in a long time. God Adam, I can’t help thinking this would be really great, you know?”

He nodded in agreement. “It would.” His eyes were so full of understanding and adoration. “But…” he prompted, knowingly.

She bit her lip and tilted her head in apology, the tears once again threatening to spill over. “I don’t know what to do,” she confessed, her voice breaking.

“Oh Honey, come here.” He reached for her with a sigh and pulled her to him.  His arms enveloped her and he kissed her hair tenderly. “I think you do.”

She couldn’t even speak. There were no words.

So he did it for her. “Life is strange, ya know? You and me together – we’re like a shooting star. We burn so bright and hot together for these little, fleeting moments in time. If you blink, you miss us,” he chuckled, softly. “But while we’re burning…wow. We’ll take your breath away.”

She lifted her face from his shoulder and locked eyes with him. “I love you, you know that?”

He smiled a bit sadly, his eyes wet. “Right back at ya, Kid.”

“You’re not angry?”

His brows crinkled. “What for? Because I just spent one hell of a week with one of the most beautiful, intelligent, amazing women I’ve ever known?”

She huffed quietly and averted her eyes, feeling the familiar warmth flood her cheeks.

“I had no expectations going into this, Dana. We’ve lived separate lives for the past fifteen years. And we’re different people than we were back then.” He cupped one side of her face and pinned her with a look. “I won’t lie to you. Could I fall in love with you all over again?” He swallowed and his eyes raked over her face. “There’s no doubt in my mind. Hard and fast.”

She felt her stomach flip at his honest admission and she realized that the sentiment was true for her as well. She could’ve been happy with this man. They could’ve had a full life together. If it wasn’t for…

“But it doesn’t mean it would be the best thing for either of us in the long run,” he admitted. “Maybe…maybe this is all we’re ever supposed to be.”

The truth was bittersweet and she closed her eyes as he planted feather light kisses on her forehead, her lashes, her cheeks. Finally her lips. “You need to follow your heart,” he said, “no regrets, okay?”

She nodded and allowed his kisses to linger, wanting to freeze time, just for a bit longer. “Now what?” she whispered sadly.

His lips caressed her neck, his hot breath hovering over her skin like a mist. “Stay. Tonight.”

She tensed, averting her gaze. “Adam, I don’t think I can-“

“Shh, I don’t mean that. I meant just what I said. Stay. Let’s just be us, for one more night.” His eyes questioned her and she didn’t hesitate, even for a moment, before nodding and allowing him to lead her upstairs. They undressed and climbed into his bed, beneath a blanket of stars, and he held her until she fell asleep.

 

*******


	26. Chapter 26

Davis and Nikki Fletcher’s house

Mulder stood behind Davis Fletcher and waited patiently for him to unlock his front door. He was impressed that Fletcher was able to get the key in the lock on the first try when it was swaying from side to side like that. They don’t make locks like they used to, he thought, stifling a snort. God, he stunk. He could smell himself. “You could’ve just taken me to a motel.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Fletcher, swinging the door open. “We’ve got a guest bedroom that nobody ever sleeps in.”

Mulder belched silently. “I’m not sure I’m actually house guest material tonight.” He accidentally bumped his knee on the door hard. “Ow, fuck.”

“Shhhh, you’ll wake Nikki and she’s having a hard enough time sleeping now as it is.”

A light flipped on in the hallway and Nikki Fletcher stood there in a bathrobe, eyes blinking. One hand was braced at her lower back, the other rested over the watermelon she was smuggling beneath her robe.  Shit. Mulder could add one and a half more people to the list of poor souls he was managing to keep awake tonight.

“Hi,” she said, curiously. “Everything all right?”

Davis smiled weakly. “Yeah. Agent Mulder needs a place to crash for the night.”

“What time is it?”

“After two,” said her husband apologetically.

She looked Mulder over carefully from head to toe, but her face was kind. He made his best attempt to stand up straight and look sober, but he suspected he was failing miserably. “The guest room’s already made up,” she said with an unimpressed yawn before shuffling back to her room.

Fletcher eyed him tiredly, hanging up his jacket. “You gonna be okay?”

Mulder nodded and swayed a little. “I-I just need to sleep it off.”

“I wasn’t really talking about the booze.”

Mulder huffed and looked down at his feet. They looked miles away and there were four of them. “That transparent, huh?”

Fletcher shrugged and offered a half smile. “You look at her a certain way, that’s all.”

“And I thought I was the profiler,” said Mulder, thrusting his hands into his pockets sheepishly.

Fletcher slapped him on the back and pointed toward the stairs to the second floor. “End of the hall. Get some shut-eye.”

Mulder lumbered up the stairs and wandered among white walls and berber carpeting before turning right and fumbling for a light switch. And blinking. It was cheery, but the bed looked a little small.

“That’s the nursery,” called Fletcher, amused. “Next room.”

Okay then. That would explain the three hundred teddy bears. He slithered around the corner and found a queen sized bed that called to him like a siren. He stripped down to his boxers and did a swan dive.

 

*******

 

Adam’s House

When she awoke, his soulful eyes were fixed on her. She stretched and yawned, flexing a foot into his warm calf. “You’re watching me sleep.”

He smiled. “Busted.”

“Was I snoring?”

“Like a freight train.”

She looked at him, horrified.

He chuckled and drew her to his bare chest, kissing her hair affectionately. “I’m kidding. You’re beautiful when you sleep.”

She lingered close, feeling smooth, warm skin and the tickle of tiny hairs. Her head fit perfectly in the space between his chin and shoulder and she settled it there. If she could just stop the world from turning for a day…

They had slept naked, craving the intimacy like a drug. They didn’t make love. She wondered if she’d regret that later.

His calloused fingertips played at the cleft of her lower back and her open mouth skipped over his jaw before finding his lips. They were pliant, undemanding, soothing. Why did this have to be so hard? She bent a knee and shifted her hips, draping a smooth leg over his and heard him moan, his tongue working against hers.

Don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it. Feel it. She pressed into him.

“Dana,” he warned.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pressing her cheek to his.

“It’s okay.” His embrace tightened. “It’s just that…you’re going to walk out of here this morning.” He pulled back and looked at her with regretful eyes. “And I think it might be easier…if we don’t.”

She bit a trembling lip. “I know. I don’t want to go,” she said, honestly.

“Hey.” He forced a smile and cradled her face in his hands. “It’s not goodbye.”

She nodded bravely. Then why the hell did it hurt so much?

He kissed her lips chastely and swept her hair from her eyes. “Get dressed and I’ll make you breakfast.”

Moses sat up from where he had been sleeping on the floor next to her. He stretched and then yawned, his tail thumping against the bed frame.

Adam chuckled. “Somebody knows that word.”

He rolled out from under her reluctantly and stood, pulling on a pair of boxers before retrieving his robe for her in an act of chivalry. Yes, she was going to miss this, she thought ruefully. He held it out for her and she slid into it.

As she tightened the sash, she smiled at him. “A mostly naked man cooking me breakfast? How can a girl refuse?”

He took her hand and led her down the hall. “You haven’t tasted my breakfast yet.”   

 

  *******

Calvert County Sheriff’s Office

Scully got to the sheriff’s office later than she had planned to. It had been hard to leave Adam’s house that morning, even though both of them had insisted it wasn’t goodbye. They had just found each other after so many years; there was no reason not to stay in touch. They were friends first. Friends always, she hoped. Last night she had done one of the most difficult things she’d ever done.

And she still didn’t know what it meant for her and Mulder.

Part of her wanted so desperately to go to him right now and say yes, let’s do this. She was in love with him, had been for longer than she’d admit, even to herself. But the other part of her, the woman who had been deeply hurt, was cautious and afraid, even angry. Did he really expect that after these past several months, that he could just show up and tell her that he was in love with her and it would fix everything? She felt like a crystal vase that had been shattered into a million pieces and then glued back together again. And she was just waiting with baited breath to see if the vase was strong enough to hold water.

It was after nine when she walked into the sheriff’s office and Mulder’s car was nowhere in sight. Vera, the front desk administrator, greeted her with a pleasant smile. “Good morning, Agent Scully. There’s a message here for you.”

“Good morning, Vera. A message for me?”

“Yes,” the woman said as she sifted through paper and pulled out a small pink slip. “A Mr. Hollis from the Sea View Motor Inn called. He said it was about some photographs you faxed him a couple of days ago?”

Scully nodded with a sigh, tucking the paper into her briefcase. “Thank you, Vera.” It was the manager from the motel where Neil and Amy had stayed. He was obviously calling to confirm Neil’s identity based on the faxed photos. Too bad it didn’t matter anymore. Neil had confessed to the affair. It was nailing his ass to the wall on murder charges that everything hinged on now. And unfortunately, Mr. Hollis’s statement would not help them do that. She would call him back anyway as a courtesy.

“Is Sheriff Fletcher in?” she asked Vera.

“You just missed him. He left on a call. Shall I contact him on the radio for you?”

“No,” Scully smiled politely. “That won’t be necessary. Have you seen Agent Mulder yet this morning, Vera?”

“No, I can’t say that I have.”

Scully frowned and rechecked her cell phone to make sure she hadn’t missed any messages from him. Then she made her way back to the interrogation room, dialing Mr. Hollis.

The call was answered on the first ring. “Sea View Motor Inn.”

“Yes, this is Special Agent Dana Scully of the FBI returning a call to Mr. Hollis.”

“Oh hi, Agent Scully. This is Reggie Hollis. Listen, sorry it took me so long to get back to you on those photos you faxed over. But I think there must be some kind of mistake. That’s the guy who checked in as Eli Harrington, alright. But the photo you sent me of the girl? That’s not the same girl he was with.”

Scully tightened her grip on her cell phone and her heart rate quickened. “Excuse me, Mr. Hollis?”

 “It wasn’t her. The girl with Mr. Harrington was about the same age, but had really long blonde hair and one of those diamond studs in her nose.”

Scully’s mouth went instantly dry and her briefcase fell from her curled fingers onto the floor with a thud. Her car keys spilled out with a loud jingle. Oh my God.  She had not seen this one coming. Not by a long shot.

“Hello? Agent Scully?”

“Yes, I’m here, Mr. Hollis,” she said calmly.

“Is that all you needed from me, or was there something else?”

“No. That’s all. Thank you,” she said.

She disconnected the call, then immediately hit speed dial. Come on, Mulder, pick up, pick up. Where the hell are-

“Mulder.” He sounded groggy and out-of-it, like she’d woken him. It was almost nine-thirty.

“Mulder, where the hell are you?”

“I uh…” loud shuffling sounded through the receiver. “Sorry, Scully, I guess I overslept. Just give me, uh, give me twenty minutes.”

She frowned. “Are you home?”

“No, I’m-I-I stayed at Fletcher’s place last night.”

Both of her brows lifted to her hairline. She wanted to mull this over, she really did. But she had more pressing concerns. “Mulder, listen. I just spoke with the motel manager that we faxed the photos of Neil and Amy to.” She paused for effect. “Mulder you’re never going to believe this, but it wasn’t Amy that Neil took to that motel. It was Maddie Van Leer.”

“What? Scully, are you sure?”

“Long blonde hair and diamond stud in her nose. It was her, Mulder, I’m sure of it.”

A silence followed. “Mulder? Are you there?”

“I’m here. I was just remembering something. On the first day of the case, when I interviewed Nina Rubano, the waitress who found Henry’s original drawing? She said that Maddie used to stop in to the diner sometimes as she and Neil were closing up, after Sarah and Henry had left for the day. It was always on Amy’s day off, which she found odd, but she just figured that Maddie was just confused about Amy’s schedule.”

“And you’re just happening to mention this little detail NOW?” she asked, incredulously.

“It didn’t seem important at the time,” he managed.

“It didn’t seem important or you were too distracted by other things? Mulder, you didn’t even bother to write this down in the case notes! You know how much time could have been saved if I had had this information when I interviewed Maddie?”

“What do you want me to say, Scully? I’m sorry. I should have written it down.”

“This means that in all likelihood, Neil was seeing both of them. And if Maddie knew it, then…”

“She had a motive to commit murder.”

“It was her, Mulder. I’m certain of it. Maddie Van Leer killed Amy, not Neil! It was Maddie!”

“Shit.” She heard scrambling on the other end and a clunk as he dropped his cell phone. More swearing. “Give me ten minutes, Scully. I can be there in ten.”

“Okay. Hurry.” She flipped her phone closed.

It rang not five seconds later.

“Scully.”

“Um, hey Scully. Can you pick me up at Fletcher’s house?”

“Where the hell is your car?”

“I think it’s called…the Bluewater?”

“Jesus, Mulder,” she huffed. Well that explained a lot. “I’m on my way.”

 

*******

 Mulder sat low in the passenger seat of Scully’s car with sunglasses on and a travel mug of strong coffee that Nikki Fletcher had handed him, along with a sad look, on his way out the door. He was pretty sure he looked almost as bad as he felt. Almost. He had managed to squeeze in a three minute shower and gargle with mouth wash before oozing back into yesterday’s suit. He hadn’t shaved in two days. The upside was that thanks to a healthy dose of Irish Spring, he didn’t smell like scotch and B.O. anymore. He didn’t think that Scully was fully appreciating the upside. She hadn’t had the pleasure of smelling the ‘before’ version of him.

He had a jackhammer in his head and a pit of fire in his gut. And his mouth felt like a small hamster had died inside of it. His equilibrium was tenuous at best, and Scully seemed hell bent on giving him the Mario Andretti treatment. She took a corner like the car was on rails and a pile of briefcases and files flew across the back seat. His stomach lurched.

“Scully, unless you want me to redecorate the interior of your car, you might want to ease off the pedal a little.”

“I can’t believe you got drunk in the middle of a case,” she said in that squeaky, judgmental voice he hated. “And then you thought it was a good idea to call Sheriff Fletcher to come pick you up? We are professionals, down here representing the FBI, Mulder. How we conduct ourselves reflects on the entire Bureau.”

“Would you rather I had called you at two in the morning?” he asked sarcastically. “Maybe I could have crashed on a pull-out couch at Adam’s place. That would’ve been cozy, don’t you think?”

Her jaw tightened, but she refused to look at him. He was grateful for the silence.          

He rolled his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes because he felt marginally better when the scenery wasn’t flying by his peripheral vision at forty miles per hour. It was five miles from Fletcher’s house to the high school and she seemed hell bent on making him do his penance for all of it.

Scully’s phone chirped and she eyed it sitting in the console between them. “It’s the sheriff,” she said. “Can you please answer it and ask him to get a search team over to the Van Leer residence immediately?”

Mulder pawed for the offending noise with his eyes still shut. “Agent Scully’s phone,” he answered.

A pause on the other end, then “He lives.” Mulder was pretty sure he heard a smile accompanying the verbal observation.

“Barely.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Besides marginally dead? Embarrassed,” admitted Mulder.

Fletcher chuckled. “Don’t sweat it.”

“Please apologize to your wife for me.”

“Not necessary. I will, anyway, but it’s okay. Nikki likes to take care of people, lucky for me.”

“And me,” agreed Mulder.

“I’m returning a call to Agent Scully. I’m assuming she’s with you since you’re answering her phone.”

“She is. We’re driving to the high school to bring in Maddie Van Leer for questioning.”

“Maddie? What happened?”

“Well, let’s just say, I think we’ve got the break we’ve been waiting for,” said Mulder. “How soon can you get a team over to search the Van Leer residence?”

“I’ll make the call now. What am I looking for?”

“Everything,” said Mulder simply. “Have them concentrate on her bedroom. Computer and email records, diaries, photos. And…some kind of strangulation tool – a sash or belt of some kind.”

“Jesus….” hissed Fletcher.

“We’ll need her phone records too. We’re convinced she was having an affair with Neil Bishop.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Maddie too? That son-of-a-bitch, Neil...”

“Give us an hour and then meet us back at your office.”

“You got it,” said Fletcher.

 

*******

Maddie Van Leer’s locker was located on the second floor of the school, near the art wing. She was standing with a small group of friends when Mulder and Scully approached, her casual expression quickly turning to curious and guarded. Wide eyes peeked out from behind adjoining lockers as their presence quickly became a subject of interest to everyone around.

“Good morning, Maddie. Why don’t you get your things,” instructed Scully coolly. “We’ll need you to come with us.”

“I have an English test. What’s this about?”

“I think you know,” said Scully. “But we can talk about it here in front of your friends, if you’d like.”

Mulder thought he saw a hint of fear pass over her porcelain features, but it evaporated just as quickly and she forced a nervous smile, tossing her books back into her locker and pulling out a denim jacket. The posse of girls that had been gathered around dissipated in a low hum of gossipy whispers.

Scully led the way out, Maddie and Mulder trailing behind. When they reached the car, Mulder opened the back door for the girl and she paused to rake him over with predatory scrutiny before pressing her glossy lips together in a pout. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure,” she purred.

Mulder rolled his eyes. “Get in.”

 

END PART NINE


	27. Chapter 27

PART TEN

Calvert County Sheriff’s Office

They huddled outside the interrogation room, observing Maddie Van Leer through a small window. Mulder likened questioning a suspect to a high stakes basketball game between two rivals. It paid to map out your plays ahead of time. “You want to run this?” he asked Scully. “She talked to you last time.”

Scully sighed and peered at Maddie, shaking her head. “No, you should. She’ll talk to you.”

“What makes you say that?”

Scully tilted her head in an ‘oh please’ expression. “She looked at you like she was about to slather you with whipped cream and grab a spoon. She’s confident in her ability to control men and her guard will be down with you. Establish rapport and make her feel like she’s in control first, then question her. Get her to admit the affair with Neil before bringing up the murder.”

Mulder arched two impressed brows at her. Heaven help him if he was ever interrogated by Scully. If she pinned him with that satin voice and those come hither eyes, he’d tell her anything she wanted to hear. He’d probably cop to the assassination of JFK.

“Turn on the suave, Mulder. Don’t tell me you don’t remember how to charm an eighteen year old girl.”

He swallowed nauseously. “Not at thirty-seven.”

She smiled. “Well, try. And here, take these first.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a bottle of Ibuprofen and shook out two orange capsules. “You look like you could use them.”

Mulder accepted them gratefully. “Thanks, Doc.” He swallowed them dry before entering the interrogation room alone.

Maddie looked up immediately and smiled, pulling herself up straight in her chair. “Hi Agent Mulder.” The long lashes batted at him.

He forced a return smile and sat down, crossing his leg nonchalantly. “Can I get you anything? A Coke?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you. Where’s Agent Scully?”

Mulder made a dismissive noise. “She’ll be in later. I thought it might be nice for us to have the opportunity to chat alone for a few minutes.”

Her eyes brightened.

Mulder reached to the end of the table and pulled a small tape recorder closer, clicking it on. He smiled, casually and shrugged, palms turned up. “Standard procedure. Silly, I know, but I am required to inform you that you have the right to have an attorney present now or at any time during questioning. Like I said,” he smiled, disarmingly, “it’s just standard procedure.”

“Why would I need an attorney?” she asked, with doe eyes and pouty lips. “I have nothing to hide.”

“Of course. Very well then, we’ll continue.” Mulder cleared his throat. “Maddie, I’ll get straight to the point and tell you why you’re here.” He ran a hand through his hair and then leaned forward slightly, invading her personal space and making direct eye contact with her.

“Neil Bishop has claimed that you and he were lovers.”

Maddie sucked in a breath and recoiled and Mulder’s brain hit the panic button for a nanosecond, but he trusted his instincts. He knew the approach had been risky, but he also knew the basic human psyche. He rushed back in, recovering. “Now listen, I have to be honest and say that, as far as I’m concerned, you’re two consenting adults and what you do is your business. I’m not here to pass judgment.” He lowered his eyes and forced his best smolder. “If you know what you want, why should you let others tell you what to do?”

She appeared to soften and Mulder forged ahead. “If it’s true, some would claim that you’ve been taken advantage of, but I don’t see it that way at all.” She watched him carefully, listening. “I think you’re a woman who is capable of making her own decisions. To treat you like a victim would be an insult.”

He placed his hands on the table and slid them closer to the center, leaning in on his elbows and closing the distance between them by half. “And now that I’ve met you, I can see how it could easily happen.”

Her owl eyes widened at him.

“You’re very attractive, Maddie.” His eyes grazed her body. “And men are inherently weak creatures.”

His words hung suspended in the air and his gaze lingered on her. Come on, come on Maddie. If this didn’t work, he didn’t exactly have a Plan B. If she requested a lawyer, he was screwed. It didn’t take a legal genius to see through the bullshit he was shoveling.

Her eyes narrowed briefly before a provocative smile spread over her face and her shoulders relaxed. “They are weak, aren’t they?”

Mulder swallowed and nodded like a whipped puppy, giving it all he had.

Maddie gave a low, throaty chuckle. “You’re all alike, you know that? You’re all after a tight piece of ass. Neil was no different.”

Mulder held his breath for a few seconds before sensing an opening. “So how long have you been seeing him?”

“I’m not. Not any longer. He was a lying, cheating son-of-a-bitch. He and I had a good thing going when she stepped in where she didn’t belong.”

“She, meaning Amy?” prompted Mulder.

Maddie nodded, fire in her eyes. “She knew what Neil and I meant to each other. She knew that he had promised to leave his wife for me. He never loved Sarah; he just stayed because of the kid. We were going to leave after graduation and move to the west coast together.”

“Then he started seeing Amy too,” prompted Mulder. “And she was your best friend. You must have been pretty upset.”

She sighed, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “It’s to be expected, I suppose. Like I said, men are weak. It’s not their fault.” She raised a hand to her mouth and chewed on a long purple fingernail absently. “My father’s been sleeping around on my mother for years and she doesn’t do a damn thing. I made up my mind a long time ago that would never be me.”

“Why do you think Amy went after Neil in the first place?”

Maddie huffed out an incredulous laugh and eyed him squarely. “Isn’t it obvious? She was jealous of what Neil and I had together. She knew Neil promised to take me away after graduation and she wanted that for herself. I mean, let’s face it, Amy was pretty, but she had no real ambition. She wasn’t going anywhere and she knew it. Neil was her ticket out of here.”

“And when you found out Neil and Amy were seeing each other, you confronted them?”

“He promised to stop seeing her, but he lied,” she said, coldly. “I warned Amy more than once. I told her what would happen.”

Her words chilled Mulder to the bone. “Warned her about what?”

She stopped talking and crossed her arms, slouching back in her chair with an arctic stare.

“Maddie, what did you warn Amy about? What did you say would happen?”

Just then a soft knock sounded at the door followed by a squeak as it opened. He heard Scully’s voice, business-like. “Mulder? A word?”

He got up and followed her into the hallway, closing the door behind them.

“Bad timing, Scully.”

“Yeah well, Sheriff Fletcher just called. Suffice it to say you can skip right to the punch line in there.” She nodded toward the interrogation room. “The search team just turned up a silk scarf buried under a mountain of clothes in Maddie’s closet. Luminol showed traces of blood on it.”

Mulder’s respiration kicked up a notch. “How long until we know if it’s a match?”

“Fletcher’s pushing hard to get it back today. But Maddie doesn’t have to know that.” Her eyes connected solidly with his. “I say we double team and go in guns blazing. Claim we’ve got solid evidence, and push for a confession.” She lifted her shoulders in mock innocence. “What’re a few white lies in the pursuit of justice?”

He smiled and bobbed his head. “Fibs from fibbies. I like that.”

She allowed an amused smile. He loved when she actually tolerated his ill attempts at humor.

“Let’s go, partner,” he said, resisting the urge to high five her.

“Good cop/bad cop?” she suggested thoughtfully, weighing their options.

“Well, she already thinks she’s reduced me to a panting lump of testosterone, so that works. You go at her hard and I’ll smile and look pretty.”

She sighed with a pout. “Why do I always have to be the bitch?”

Any response to that would get him in big trouble, so he grinned and zipped it, turning the doorknob.

Maddie’s entire demeanor changed at the sight of Scully, and Mulder realized that the old dog and pony show may have met its match. She was a maneater on a mission. But there was one thing he knew for certain. People often made the mistake of underestimating Scully. He was counting on it.

Scully glanced at him and his head dipped almost unnoticeably, silently telling her to go ahead and take the lead.

His partner’s face was cold, hard steel as she sat straight in her chair and leaned forward, assuming her role. “Maddie. Let me make something perfectly clear. I don’t like being lied to and I don’t like being jerked around, and you’ve made the very unwise decision to do both. Now, if you ask me, Agent Mulder has been far too generous in listening to this web of lies you’re weaving.”

Mulder spotted an opening for him to play along. “Scully, I think that’s a little-“

“Let me finish, Mulder,” she snapped. Then she turned toward him and placed a hand on his arm, leaning in and speaking in a hushed tone that Maddie could easily overhear. “This is ridiculous, Mulder. She’s got you completely snowed too.”

Mulder went silent and sat back sheepishly while Scully trampled on. “You know what I see here? I see a spoiled little rich girl who is used to having her way. You’ve been lying to me from the beginning and you’d better start telling the truth.”

Maddie’s mouth gaped open.

“Last week you told me that Amy had been seeing someone, but you claimed not to know who that person was. That was a lie. Amy had been having an affair with Neil Bishop and you knew it. You knew it because you were too.”

Mulder jumped in, doing his part. “Scully, I don’t see the point of this. Maddie has already cooperated and admitted to her relationship with Neil.” He manufactured a sympathetic look for Maddie.

“The point,” Scully continued in an annoyed tone, “is that I don’t care if you’re sleeping with all of Solomon’s Island, Maddie. That’s not a crime. What is a crime is committing murder.”

Mulder saw that flash of fear again on Maddie’s face before she recovered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t kill Amy.”

“Save it,” snapped Scully, disdainfully. “We’re past the charade. We know you did it. We know how you did it and why you did it.” She pinned Maddie with a glare. “Do you want to tell the story, or shall I?”

Maddie’s eyes narrowed and her mouth clamped shut.

“Fine,” said Scully calmly. “Have it your way.” She drew a deep breath before continuing. “Good, old-fashioned jealousy, Maddie. It’s the oldest story in the book.”

Maddie looked up at Scully and her eyes flamed. Scully didn’t flinch.

“You found out that Amy was seeing Neil and you went to the diner the Thursday before Amy died to confront both of them. The three of you argued and you left. Later, Neil made a promise to you that he’d stop seeing Amy and you believed him. But he lied to you, didn’t he, Maddie?”

Mulder jumped in, taking a softer approach. “The day Amy died, you went to her house to see her. Maybe you wanted to tell her you forgave her. You could understand how it could happen; you’re not a monster, are you Maddie?”

She responded with a sniff, looking away. Mulder continued. “When you got to Amy’s house, you were surprised to see Neil’s car parked on her street. So you waited. You waited for him to leave and then you knocked on Amy’s door. You just wanted to talk to her because there must have been some kind of misunderstanding, right? Maybe Neil was just there to give her a paycheck or something. But when you confronted Amy, she admitted that she was still seeing Neil.” His voice dipped lower now. “You were hurt, weren’t you? She was your best friend. How could she betray you like that?”

Maddie glanced quickly at Mulder, then away, but not before Mulder saw the shadow of unease.

 “You didn’t plan to harm Amy, did you Maddie? There was a struggle and Amy fell and hit her head, isn’t that right? She was knocked unconscious.”

Mulder observed Maddie’s entire posture go stiff and her eyes glaze over.

“But…you panicked, didn’t you?” he pushed. “You panicked and you weren’t thinking. You never meant to hurt her. You were overcome with emotion and you simply reacted.” Mulder paused for a long moment, letting the air settle. “You strangled her with your scarf, didn’t you? We found it in the bottom of your closet, Maddie. It has Amy’s blood on it.”

She looked past him now, her eyes wet and vacant. The silence in the room was overwhelming and Mulder thought sure she wouldn’t speak. But then she did. And her voice was hollow and flat. “She lied to me. They both did. So I took care of the problem. I couldn’t let them both make a fool of me.”

She shook her head, emotionless. Her one hand caressed the back of the other absently, staring off into space. “It was easier than I thought.” Maddie’s voice was almost a whisper now. “She never made a sound. She just…stopped breathing. And the room was so quiet…so unbearably quiet. I remember…hearing the clock above the fireplace chime four times. It was four o’clock. I was supposed to be….home…to watch my brothers. I had to go or my parents would be upset with me. I had to go or I’d be in trouble. So I left.”

Scully released a quiet breath and closed her eyes. Mulder allowed the silence to bathe the room for a long moment. No matter how many confessions he had heard as an investigator, even expected ones, he was never quite ready for them.

“Why did you take the ring, Maddie?” Mulder asked. “Did you intend to frame Neil for Amy’s murder?”

Maddie huffed out a barely audible laugh. “I took it because I wanted it. Neil had never given me anything like that. She didn’t deserve it. He loved me more than he loved her. That ring should have been mine.”

“What did you do with it?” prompted Scully quietly, having abandoned her bad cop role.

Maddie sat silent and expressionless.

“You snuck into the Bishop’s shed and planted it there, didn’t you? And when I questioned you at the high school, you told me about Amy’s secret lover, and about the ring, knowing that our investigation would eventually lead back to Neil,” said Scully evenly.

Maddie didn’t protest, but her face hardened again. “How did you know it was me?”

“A motel manager identified both you and Neil,” confirmed Mulder. “We had assumed at first that it was Amy because the girl was described as wearing a Varsity cheerleading jacket.”

“I borrowed Amy’s jacket that night.”

Mulder nodded.

“But, I mean the ring? How did you know I was the one who put it in the shed? I was so careful.” Her voice had taken on a detached, sing-song tone.

Scully answered simply. “Henry. He saw you arguing with Neil and Amy at the diner. And then he saw you sneak into the shed after Amy’s murder.”

Maddie arched two brows and huffed incredulously. She sounded exhausted, like all the fight had left her body. “Imagine that.”

Mulder exchanged a look with Scully, both of them knowing what needed to happen next. Mulder stood and Scully followed suit. He cleared his throat. “Maddie Van Leer, I am placing you under arrest for the murder of Amy Rhodes. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?”

Maddie began to cry silently and nodded her head.

“Please provide a verbal response,” requested Scully, professionally.

“Yes,” Maddie replied, her voice catching on a sob.  “I think I should call my parents now .”

Sheriff Fletcher opened the door and stepped in hurriedly, then stopped in his tracks. “Sorry, I’m late.” He made eye contact with Mulder, then Scully, and his face sobered.

“Sheriff, can you please get Miss Van Leer a phone?” Scully asked calmly.

     

*******

Scully’s Apartment, Georgetown

She stood in front of the stove stirring robotically, the smooth liquid bubbling and popping like orange lava. Tomato soup from a can, all she could dig up in her kitchen after a cursory examination of her nearly empty refrigerator. Shopping would have required far more energy than she had in reserve by the time they left the sheriff’s office in their separate cars to begin the hour- long drive back to the District.

The case was over. Maddie was in custody, awaiting arraignment and the district attorney was no doubt busy building a case against her. The forensics on the sash found in Maddie’s closet came back positive for Amy’s DNA. That evidence, combined with the taped confession, would seal the case. Justice had been served, and yet, it didn’t make it much easier when all was said and done. Maddie Van Leer had been a troubled young woman who had made some devastating choices. She was eighteen years old and could now look forward to spending most of the remainder of her life in prison. Two young girls’ lives were over. Scully didn’t see much to be happy about with regards to that.  

Her phone rang as she was pouring soup into a ceramic bowl.

“Hello.” She expected to hear her mother’s voice on the other end. They had been playing phone tag all week while she had been preoccupied with the case. And other things.

“Hi,” said a familiar voice. She smiled instantly. Speaking of other things.

“Hi.”

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No. I was just getting ready to have some hot soup and zone out in front of the TV. What are you doing?”

“I’m still at work. Finishing a boat for delivery tomorrow.”

“Sounds like you’ve had a longer day than I have,” she said.

“I heard about your case.”

“Wow, news really does travel fast.”

“It’s a small town.” He was quiet for a moment. “So I guess this means you won’t be spending your days on the Island anymore then.”

“Yeah,” she replied quietly. “We’re driving back down one last time tomorrow morning. I’d like to say goodbye to Sarah and Henry.” She sighed. “But then…yes, we’ll move on to other cases.”

He cleared his throat. “That’s why I’m calling actually. I heard from Frankie today. They’re releasing Millie tomorrow and I’m planning to go out with the team and watch. I thought perhaps you might like to go too.”

“Millie?”

He chuckled. “That’s what they named her. Silly, I know, to name them when they just get released back into the water, but the team gets attached to them.”

She bit her lip and closed her eyes. “Well…it’s easy to get attached.” 

There was a pregnant pause and she tried to picture him on the other end, those kind blue eyes. She knew this was going to be hard, but hearing his voice now-

“I’ll understand if you’re busy-“

“I’d love to go.”

“You would? That’s um, that’s great.”

“What time and where?”

“We’re launching from the marina at one o’clock tomorrow. You can meet us there.”

“I’ll be there. Goodnight, Adam.”

“Sleep tight, Lady G.”

 

 

*******


	28. Chapter 28

Home of Martin and Laura Turner, Sarah’s parents

“Are you sure I can’t get you some more pancakes, Agent Mulder?” Sarah’s mother asked, hovering near the large dining room table. “Or another scone? How about more scrambled eggs?” Sarah herself raised her brows, glancing at both Mulder and Scully apologetically. Apparently, when Mrs. Turner had heard that two FBI agents would be coming to visit her daughter and grandson, she had insisted on serving a full breakfast, nothing spared.

“Oh no thank you, Mrs. Turner,” replied Mulder, appreciatively. “Everything was delicious, but if I get used to eating like this, I’ll need to have all my suits altered,” he joked, good-naturedly.

Sarah’s father popped his greying head in the doorway to the dining room and bellowed in a loud, commanding voice, “She likes to feed people. That’s what she does. Look at me!” He patted his rounded stomach.

Mrs. Turner passed by her husband, clicking her tongue at him in mock disapproval. “Hush, you old grouch,” she smiled. “I don’t see you complaining when I make you biscuits and gravy every morning.”

Scully chuckled and turned her attention back to Sarah, who sat sipping from a frothing mug of hot chocolate. The woman looked like an entirely different person. She was wearing a pair of neat slacks and a tailored, crisp cotton blouse. Her blonde hair was lustrous and shiny, pulled back into an attractive braid, and she was wearing makeup for the first time since Scully had seen her. Her fingers caressed the edge of the mug and Scully noticed that Sarah had removed her wedding ring.

“How are you, Sarah?” she asked, gently.

Sarah sighed deeply and shrugged. “I’ll be honest, I’m not altogether sure yet,” she admitted. “I’m taking it day by day. But it feels good to be here.”

Scully looked through the open doorway, across the hall, and into a sunny office. She could see the back of Henry’s head as he sat at a large desk sketching. “And Henry?” she asked.

Sarah smiled tenderly at her son. “He’s good. He seems to enjoy spending time with my folks. He takes long walks with my dad in the morning and he likes to help my mom in the kitchen. He seems…content, peaceful.”

“He’s quite an amazing kid,” said Mulder, following Scully’s gaze.

Sarah nodded, perking up. “I’ve been in touch with my sister. She lives in Chicago and she tells me there are some wonderful schools there. Schools where Henry could be with other children like him, make friends, even further develop his talents.” She shrugged. “We’re not ready to go anywhere yet, but it’s a thought. I like the idea of going someplace where Henry and I can start over.”

 Scully nodded, compassionately. “You’ve both been through so much.”

Emotion flooded Sarah’s slight features. “I worry about Henry’s adjustment more than anything. Routine is very important to him and he doesn’t express his emotions the same way most kids do. It’s hard for me to know how he’s feeling.” She drew a deep breath and forced an optimistic smile. “But he’s a very strong boy – much stronger than I think most people realize.”

Scully glanced Henry’s way again. “I have a feeling you’re right about that.” She patted Sarah’s hand kindly. “I think you both are.”

“I’m so glad you came here today,” said Sarah. “I wanted to thank both of you in person for everything you’ve done.”

“We were just doing our job,” replied Mulder, and Scully nodded in agreement.

“Well, it’s made a difference for Henry, and for me.”

Mrs. Turner popped her head in the room again. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Sarah, but it’s such a lovely day. Grandpa’s been chomping at the bit for Henry to go with him and try out that new fishing pole he bought him.”

Sarah bit her lip and looked across the hall at her son. “Oh Mom, I don’t know about that. Henry’s never been fishing before.”

Her mother tilted her head, patiently and smiled. “Oh Honey, they’ll be fine. He’s a boy, isn’t he? Let him be a boy.” The elderly woman chuckled. “Besides, your sister has three boys and Grandpa hasn’t lost one of ‘em yet.”

Sarah relaxed and smiled. “I suppose it would do Henry some good to get outside.”

“Exactly,” her mother agreed. “And it will give you and me the chance to do some shopping together.”

Sarah conceded with a nod and her mother ducked back out of the room, calling for her husband.

Mulder and Scully stood. “We should be going, Sarah,” said Scully, “but we wanted to have the opportunity to stop by in person to say goodbye.”

Sarah’s face brightened. “Would you like to see Henry before you go? I know he’d love to see you both.”

Scully nodded, gratefully.

Mulder touched her elbow. “Why don’t you go first, Scully. I’m going to excuse myself to the bathroom  and I’ll join you in a minute.”

Sarah gathered up coffee mugs to carry them to the kitchen. She nodded her head toward the room across the hall where her son sat. “You can go ahead,” she offered with a smile.

Scully made her way to the room that looked like a large office and hesitated in the doorway, observing Henry, before she approached. She sat down slowly in a chair next to him. “Hello, Henry.”

The boy’s eyes shifted slightly toward her for a fraction of a second before refocusing on his sketch. He sat calmly, a half empty mug of cocoa with tiny floating marshmallows to his left.

“Henry, Agent Mulder and I wanted to come and say goodbye. Our work here is done and it’s time for us to go back home.” Henry’s pencil made no attempt to slow. “But we didn’t want to leave without having the chance to tell you how much we’ve enjoyed getting to know you.”

She watched the boy’s face for any sign of intended communication, but his crystal clear eyes darted back and forth across his drawing. Scully couldn’t see what he was working on very well, his elbow obscured her view. It looked like he was sketching a person. She could decipher the edge of an article of clothing, a coat perhaps, long and billowy.

“You’re a very special boy, Henry. And I feel incredibly blessed for having had the chance to meet you.” She hesitated for a moment. “I won’t forget you, Henry.”

She watched him for a few more minutes, her gaze drifting over his gentle, innocent features. Then she took a deep breath and attempted to stand up, but not before Henry’s right hand ceased sketching and came to rest abruptly on her sleeve. She gasped at the physical gesture and looked down.

With his other hand, Henry very slowly slid the drawing he had been working on toward her and tapped on it several times quickly with his finger. She didn’t look carefully at first, she just smiled. “Is this for me, Henry? That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you ver-“

Then her eyes focused on the sketch and she lost her words, her breath catching in the back of her throat.

It was a drawing of her. She was standing in Henry’s bedroom looking at the shelves full of his airplane and car models. Her coat-covered arm was reaching for one. It was the exact scene from the other day, down to the most intricate detail. Only her profile was visible, her back toward the open doorway. And standing outside the room, in the hallway, was Mulder.

But that wasn’t what took her breath away. No. It was the look on Mulder’s face as he watched her, silent and unannounced. It was a look of pure adoration, nothing short of reverence. It was the look of deep, intense love.

Scully’s hand flew to her mouth as she grasped the paper between her fingers. Oh my God. She swallowed hard and her eyes swam. This was what Henry saw that day. Mulder must have been standing there outside the room far longer than she had thought, gazing at her. And Henry had seen the complete vulnerability and the love in Mulder’s eyes. And this sketch, this snapshot of emotion, frozen in time, was Henry’s gift to her.

When she finally recovered, she saw that Henry was looking at her with a hint of unease on his face. Her shocked reaction must have startled him. He may have thought she was unhappy or upset. “Henry, this is …this is the most beautiful gift anyone’s ever given me.” She only hesitated a second before wrapping her arm around Henry’s small shoulders in an embrace. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. “Thank you so much.”

Henry placed a feather light hand over hers and squeezed.

She heard Mulder’s voice in the hallway by the kitchen, exchanging goodbyes with Sarah and her parents, thanking Mrs. Turner for breakfast. She wiped her eyes and hastily tucked the drawing into her briefcase, zipping it closed just as Mulder’s footsteps entered the room.

He smiled at her. “Ready, Scully?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yes.”

Mulder approached Henry then and propped his briefcase up on the desk. He opened it and took out a small careworn box with dented edges and faded writing. It immediately captured Henry’s attention and a curious wrinkle formed between his brows.

“I-I don’t know if you can do anything with this, Henry, but I was cleaning out some closets the other day and came across this old model of a World War I seaplane. My father gave it to me when I was about your age and I…I never got around to putting it together.” He shrugged sheepishly. “I was never really very good at that sort of thing. But…I thought maybe you could give it a shot on some rainy day. If you want.”

Henry’s hand rose slowly, then hovered over the box for several seconds before touching the edge. Then he looked up at Mulder and smiled.

“Goodbye, Henry,” said Mulder, placing his hand at the small of Scully’s back as they headed for the door. “Take good care of your mom.”

Minutes later, they had said all their farewells and were standing on the sidewalk. She studied him, eyes wide in disbelief. “Mulder, my brother used to build model airplanes. That was a vintage Hubley Seaplane. That’s a collector’s item. Do you have idea how much it’s worth?”

He smiled at her and shrugged. “What was I ever going to do with it, Scully?”

She shook her head and smiled right back at him.

They had driven separate cars again since Scully had plans to accompany Adam and the rescue team on the dolphin release. She looked at her watch and saw that she had just enough time to stop by the sheriff’s office and change her clothes.   

Mulder lingered on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. She hit the key fob and unlocked her car doors, tossing her purse and briefcase onto the passenger seat.

“I think that went well,” he said.

“Yes,” she jumped in eagerly. “They seem like they’ll be fine. Sarah looked good.”

He nodded. “She did.” Then he placed a hand to his stomach with a chuckle. “What a breakfast, huh?”

She laughed a bit too loudly. “Those pancakes with the real maple syrup-“

“SO good!”

“So good,” she agreed. “I’m pretty sure I gained a few pounds.”

He shifted his feet and looked down, awkwardly.

She took a deep breath. “So…I have to go. I’m, um, expected somewhere…”

He nodded vigorously. “Sure, yeah. Um, my apartment’s a wreck,” he chuffed. “I haven’t done laundry in a week. And I’m sure Skinner’s got a whole pile of cases waiting for us tomorrow. Yeah, I’ve got a lot to get to today.” He nodded. “Plenty to do….”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow?”

His head bobbed. “Definitely. See you tomorrow, Scully.”

He turned to walk toward his car, circling his key ring on his finger casually.

“Hey Mulder.”

He turned back.

She opened her mouth to speak, but struggled for words, her stomach somersaulting.

He waited, patiently, an expression of painful anticipation in his gold-flecked eyes.

She swallowed and averted her gaze. “You drive carefully.”

There was a lengthy pause while the hopeful look dissolved into a gentle smile. “You too, Scully.”

She sat behind the wheel of her car as she watched him drive away.

 

*******

 

Several Miles Off The Coastline, Chesapeake Bay

She held onto the railing and leaned over the stern of the boat a little further than she should have, breathing deep the sea-soaked air. When she closed her eyes, her lids burned crimson in the warm sun. They had been at sea a little over an hour and it was nothing but a blanket of blue, the edge of the water fading into the skyline like an oil painting. She imagined that this was what her father had looked at all those endless days at sea. He had captained a ship with over two hundred men and yet, he still described it as a lonesome experience, spending languid days lost in his own thoughts.

A warm hand touched her arm and her eyes fluttered open. “Nothing diet on board,” Adam said apologetically. “Ginger ale.”

She took the green can and popped it open, swallowing long. “Thank you.”

“There are some sandwiches that the crew brought along, if you’re hungry. I cannot vouch for them,” he shrugged.

“I’m fine. I ate an enormous breakfast.”

He arched two brows.

“Perk of the job.”

He breathed deeply and rested his elbows on the railing. “So what’s next for you?”

She glanced his way and questioned him with her eyes.

“I mean, another case right away? How does this work – do you guys choose where to go and what to do or is it all rather Mission Impossible?”

She chuckled. “A little of both, I guess. We’re given assignments sometimes. Other times, they stem from research that Mulder does or from phone calls we receive – like this one. Sometimes, we just stumble into them, strange as that may sound.”

“Do you ever think about, I don’t know, a simpler life? Teaching? A private practice? Working in a hospital?”

She nodded, eyes squinting toward the horizon. “Yes, often. Or at least I used to.”

“And now?”

“And now…I’ve been starting to think lately that it might just be all about the journey, and not where you end up.”

He huffed and nodded. “I think sailors have known that for thousands of years. How come, as sailors’ kids, it’s taken us this long to figure it out?”

She laughed out loud at that, shaking her head, and he joined her. Then they paused to take a breath before looking at each other and dissolving into more laughter.

“This is going to be what you see on your trip,” she said, her voice wavering with dissipating laughter. “For three long months. Nothing but blue.” She faced him head-on. “I hope you like blue.”

His gaze pinned her down and held her tight. “I like blue.”

The moment stretched. She breathed again.

“It’s a long time to be by yourself,” she observed. “I don’t know if I could do it.”

“I won’t be by myself. I’ll have Moses.” A tail thumped near her sandal. “He’s not a bad dinner companion and he even knows a few jokes.”

She clicked her tongue in affection and bent at the waist to give due attention, scratching the dog’s floppy ear.

Frankie emerged from the depths of the boat, ascending the staircase to the upper deck. “There you guys are,” she smiled. “We’re just about ready down below. Millie’s out and feeling social if you want to see her.”

They both nodded and followed Frankie down the stairs. The lower deck was a flurry of activity and it smelled like raw fish. The cause became abundantly clear when she spotted a man walking past her carrying a large white bucket.

“Millie knows how to catch her own meals,” said Adam, “but the team will release her on a full stomach. It gives her time to adapt before she needs to think about hunting again.”

They approached Millie slowly, trying to stay out of the way of the marine biologists. The dolphin lay on an enormous stretcher, and a young woman in a wet suit periodically used a wand to spray water over Millie’s slick grey skin, keeping her hydrated and comfortable. The animal made clicking sounds that made Dana smile. She noticed that the dolphin’s eyes were open and alert, and she appeared to be calm.

“Will she be alright?”

Adam nodded. “Dolphins are social animals. Female Bottlenose dolphins live in groups of anywhere from ten to thirty members, called pods. Males live mostly alone, or in groups of two or three and cycle in and out of pods for mating. Groups aren’t exclusive and new members are accepted. It shouldn’t take Millie long to enmesh herself into a new pod.”

His casual ease and depth of knowledge surprised her. “How do you know all of this?”

He smiled modestly. “Reading, mostly. Like I said, I’ve been on a few rescues and releases, and I’ve visited the Aquarium before, but I feel like I know so little compared to these guys.” He nodded with his head toward the team of people circling Millie, checking her respiration and vitals.

“Don’t let him fool you,” said Frankie, grinning widely. “He’s a natural.” She handed both Adam and Dana each a pair of rubber gloves.

She watched curiously as Adam put his on. “You need to wear them if you want to feed Millie,” he explained. “Human beings can transfer illnesses to marine mammals and we don’t want her to get sick before she’s released.” Dana put her gloves on, still in awe at this wealth of information she was learning.

They took turns feeding raw fish to Millie, who clicked and squeaked in gratitude. After a few more minutes, they heard the engine on the boat cut, and Frankie announced that they were ready to make the release. Four of the biologists each took an end of the stretcher and carefully lifted and transported it to the outer deck of the boat where a thick, rope net was waiting.

The stretcher was gently leveraged and Frankie and another biologist guided Millie onto the net. Adam and Dana stood off to the side and out of the way. “How will she get out of the net once she’s down in the water?” she asked.

Adam nodded. “Two members of the rescue team will enter the water with her and cut the net free once she’s in the water. If all goes well, she should swim away on her own after a few minutes.”

“And if not?”

“Sometimes, not often, but sometimes dolphins will refuse to leave the area of release. It’s most likely to happen if they’ve been held in captivity for a while. In that case, re-entry into the wild isn’t possible. If left there, the dolphin would likely starve or, without the protection of a group, fall victim to prey.”

“So what then?”

“If it’s necessary, the team will return Millie to the aquarium where she would live in captivity for the rest of her natural life. It’s not ideal, but there are worse outcomes.”

Frankie sidled up next to them. “All systems go then,” she said, confidently. “Jay and Leon are going in with her.” She looked down over the side of the boat as the net was lowered at a glacial pace. Two men wearing wet suits climbed down a ladder on the side of the boat, keeping pace with the net.

“Nice and easy, Guys,” Frankie called out. “Watch the dorsal fin, Jay. It’s sticking through the side of the net.”

She turned toward Adam and Dana again. “So what do you think?”

Dana smiled. “I think this is amazing. I hope she makes it.”

Frankie nodded. “I think she will. She’s young and healthy. If she hadn’t gotten caught in the fishing net, she wouldn’t have beached. Anyway, we’ll know within the first ten or fifteen minutes. Dolphins who refuse to re-enter, stay pretty close and visible.”

Millie and the rescuers had reached the surface of the water now. Frankie turned her attention to the activity below and watched closely as the net was carefully cut in strategic spots so that the dolphin could swim away unencumbered. Millie continued to emit random clicks and other communicative sounds.

“Hang on,” warned Frankie. “We’ve got company off the starboard side. It should be far enough out, but let’s not take any chances.”

Dana felt their own boat start to list back and forth gently in response to the white-capped waves. A small motorboat passed by. After a few minutes of waiting, the ocean was an empty canvass of blue once again and the activity below resumed. 

“You’ve got it, that’s it,” encouraged Frankie. “One more cut underneath her. Be careful because our girl’s a bit of a wiggler.”

Once the last of the rope was cut away, one of the rescuers gave a thumbs up and both of the men moved back as the dolphin drifted slowly into the water, staying close to the surface.

Everyone’s eyes were fixated on Millie, watching her float gently. “Go on, Girl,” whispered Frankie. “Get on out there and do your thing.”

Millie’s movements were lazy and uncertain. She drifted in a circle, her head still above the water’s surface, making occasional squeaks and clicks.

One of the rescuers down in the water looked up, making eye contact with Frankie.

“Just give her a minute, Jay,” Frankie said in quiet anticipation. “Haven’t you ever waited on a woman before?”

Several others chuckled.

Suddenly, Millie’s entire body dipped below the surface of the water and she disappeared from view. All eyes scanned the water and waited anxiously. Dana looked over at Adam and his eyes met hers. He smiled and nodded, reaching for her hand.

“Any sign of her?” asked Frankie.

“She could have gone underneath the boat,” someone said.

“You want me to put on the diving gear and go down and take a look, Frankie?”

She shook her head, her eyes still darting over the nearby horizon. “No, I don’t think so. Let’s just wait a little longer. She’ll surface.”

The boat creaked and moaned. Not a word was said by anyone, but all eyes were on the water. Frankie bent to a large waterproof nylon bag on a bench and pulled out a pair of binoculars. She held them to her face, scanning the surface.

“There!” someone called out. “I see her!”

“Me too!” another voice said. “There she is!”

Dana sucked in a breath as she saw what everyone else did by now. It was Millie alright, her silver sleak form skimming along the surface of the water not far from where their boat was. When she made a shallow jump, several of the rescuers clapped. A few exchanged high fives.

Frankie’s mouth stretched in a wide smile “Good job, Millie. Good job.”

The two rescuers who had entered the water with Millie, climbed back aboard and the shredded net was hoisted back up. The lid to a large cooler was lifted and cold bottles of beer were passed around. Frankie offered two beers to Adam and Dana. “It’s not champagne,” she said apologetically.

Adam smiled. “Actually is there a Coke in there anywhere?”

Frankie chuckled, grabbing a red and white can and handing it to Adam. “I’ll remember one of these days.”  

Dana twisted the cap off her beer and clinked bottles with Frankie and several other rescuers before taking a long, cold swallow. “Thank you for inviting me along,” she said to Frankie. “It’s been a great experience.”

Frankie nodded warmly. “Glad you could make it.” She took another sip of her beer and cleared her throat. “So Dana, do you, um, live on the Island?”

Dana startled. “No, I live in the District. I’ve just been down here this past week working.”

Frankie’s eyes brightened just a tiny bit. “Oh, I thought…um…so how do you two know each other?”

Adam chimed in, smiling. “Dana and I knew each other back in high school on the west coast. We actually hadn’t kept in touch, but we ran into one another while she was working on the Island.”

“What kind of work do you do, Dana?”

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Frankie struggled to swallow her beer. “Really?”

Dana nodded, modestly. She was accustomed to this reaction. What it was about the badge that fascinated people, she had no idea. If they only knew that much of her time was spent chasing mythical creatures and things that go bump in the night. Surely they’d be far less impressed.

Frankie eyed Adam in amusement. “So what did Adam do to warrant the attention of the Federal Bureau of Investigation?”

Adam chuckled. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

Frankie snorted. “That is the worst line ever.”

Dana nodded with an exaggerated sigh. “It is. In fact, I might have to arrest you just for saying it.”

Frankie laughed. “Thank you!”

Adam shrugged and raised his hands in surrender.

Dana put her hand on her hip. “Why do guys think that line is funny?”

Frankie frowned and shook her head. “I have no idea. I think it’s the same reason they think Chevy Chase movies are hilarious.”

Dana laughed out loud. “Exactly.”

“Okay, okay,” Adam pleaded with a smile. “Now I’m feeling ganged up on.”

Frankie patted Adam jovially on the back and chuckled. “Don’t worry, Adam. I love ya, bad lines and all.”

They finished their drinks and Frankie excused herself to help the crew while Adam and Dana climbed the stairs again to the upper deck. The sun was brighter now and her face was beginning to feel a bit warm, so they found a quiet spot on a bench in the shade.

She kicked her sandals off and flexed her bare toes against the coolness of the deck. “She seems really nice.”

“Who’s that?” he asked, settling back on the bench and stretching an arm behind her.

“Frankie.”

“Yeah, she is.”

Moses wandered over and rested his big head on her knee and Dana scratched the top of it. “She’s pretty too.”

“I guess.”

She swiveled her head to regard him, a thin smile edging her mouth. “You guess?”

He shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“So you’re saying she’s not pretty?”

“No, I said she is pretty. I guess.”

“Uh huh.”

He arched a brow at her and settled a tiny bit lower on the bench. “How about you tell me what the right answer to your question is, and I’ll say it.”

She smirked at him. “How about you stop acting like there isn’t a very cute, very friendly, highly intelligent woman interested in you?”

He looked at her like she was crazy. “Frankie is not interested in me, Dana.”

She scrunched her brows and stared at him for a long minute.

“What?” he prompted with clueless eyes. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I’m trying to figure out if all guys are this stupid about women or if it’s really just you.”

He chuckled and placed one hand on her knee affectionately. “You’re being ridiculous. Frankie and I are good friends.”

Her brows arched even further. “So are we.”

His look was patiently indulgent. “Not like that.”

“Well….why not?”

He cocked his head in a look of honest consideration. “Wow…Frankie? I guess I never thought about her that way.”

She smiled. “Maybe you should.”

He returned her smile. “Okay. Maybe I will. But in the meantime, can we change the subject because talking about dating another woman with you is just a little bit weird.”

She chuckled and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I understand.”

They sat in silence for a long while, rocking and tilting with the boat. It seemed to her that everything they needed to say to each other had been said, and all she really wanted to do was be in his presence just a little longer.

Today had been a crossroads for her. Strangely enough, it had been a release in more ways than one. Leaving him yesterday morning had been almost unbearably hard, and she had nearly turned her car around more than once. But she felt different today. It wasn’t that she would not miss him, or that she wouldn’t think back on their time together and wonder what might have been. Of course she would. But it was impossible to know, wasn’t it? Life was full of possibilities and uncertainty, choices and defining moments. And in the end, you just had to listen to your heart and choose a door to walk through. She had done that, and she was ready to begin living her choice.

But for just a few more perfect moments, she’d sit there with the sun on her cheek and her head on his shoulder, and enjoy the path she didn’t choose.  

“What are you thinking about?” she asked him.

He sighed and tightened his arm around her shoulder. “I was trying to remember this poem that my father used to recite when I was a kid, but I-I can’t remember all of it. It went something like,

Beyond the sea, beyond the sea,

My Heart is gone, far, far from me;

And ever on its track will flee,

My thoughts, my dreams, beyond the sea. 

 

Beyond the sea, beyond the sea,

The swallow wanders fast and free;

Oh, happy bird! were I like thee,

I, too, would fly beyond the sea.

 

Aaand, that’s where I get stuck,” he said, puzzled. “There’s a third stanza, but I can’t remember it.”

 

She smiled, knowingly. “I think it’s,

 

Beyond the sea, beyond the sea,

Are kindly hearts and social glee;

But here for me they may not be;

 My heart is gone beyond the sea.”

 

 

He raised his brows at her in awe and she chuckled. “I think all sailors learn the same stuff. Did your dad read to you from Moby Dick when you were a kid?”

“No,” he said, then laughed lightly. “The Old Man and The Sea.”

She sighed. “Ah, yes.”

“Like I said before,” he smiled.  “We both have salt water coursing through our veins.”

She nodded wistfully. “That we do.”

 

*******

 

They docked a half hour later and he walked her to her car. His kiss was soft and fleeting, like sand and memories.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he said, his smile gentle and reflective.

She bit her lip and shook her head, swallowing words and salty tears.

“I’ll send you postcards everywhere I stop on my trip. You’ll be sick of hearing from me after three months.”

“No,” she said simply, swinging her arm with her pinky linked to his, their last valiant attempt to maintain contact.

“I…don’t have your address, actually,” he admitted.

She rummaged in her purse for a pen and wrote it on his hand while both of them giggled. It was something she would have done at eighteen. She’d always be eighteen with him.

She told herself she wouldn’t watch him in her rearview mirror as she drove away. By the time she got to the second traffic light, she couldn’t see him standing on the curb anymore, but she knew he was still there.    

 

  

*******


	29. Chapter 29

Mulder’s Apartment, Alexandria

He really had no idea how to describe the style and décor of his apartment. It wasn’t really Urban Contemporary. Certainly not Country Chic or Art Deco. Not Bohemian, Mediterranean, Rustic, or Retro either. No, it was really more Bachelor Functional.

He had a place to sit and watch TV in the living room, a small table where he never ate, towels in the bathroom and a few pans in the kitchen. He had even become the proud owner of a queen size bed recently, through no fault of his own. He hardly ever slept there, but he kept clean sheets on it just in case because you never knew. Well, yes he did know, but he wasn’t above wishful thinking.

He usually kept up with the major things. Most days, the coffee mugs got rinsed out before he left for work. If he ate off a dish, he managed to wash it before it grew anything. And he mostly never went without clean boxer shorts before he got around to doing the laundry. But once in a while, a case would last a bit longer than expected and he’d lose track of the fragile balance between order and disorder. Or in this particular situation, he’d become dysfunctionally obsessed with unrequited love and his entire domestic existence would spiral into pathetic squalor.

This was the unfortunate situation he found himself in when he walked through his apartment door after their last morning on Solomon’s Island.

There were takeout containers strewn across his living room, a pile of crusty dishes in the kitchen sink, and nothing even remotely edible in the fridge unless he could design a meal out of ketchup, beer, ranch dressing, and a tub of margarine. On second thought, he checked the date on the dressing and pitched it.

He needed a plan. One that didn’t involve lying around on the couch and thinking about what she was doing.  

He changed into shorts and a tee shirt, emptied his yawning hamper into a laundry basket and dragged it to the basement laundry room which was, amazingly, unoccupied. He violated the rules and hogged all three washing machines at once. Then he sprinkled some food into the murky fish tank and headed for a store in search of provisions for himself.

By nine o’clock that evening, he had shopped, washed, sorted, scrubbed and swept. His kitchen and bathroom were even clean. Well, tolerably. The test was always imagining whether or not his mother would wrinkle her nose in disgust if she happened to drop by. Shockingly, he thought his humble abode may have actually achieved wrinkle-free status.

He had just stepped from the shower and was pulling on clean sweats when there was a knock at the door. He swung the door open and there she was, a tiny storm in jeans and a leather jacket. She looked up at him through shifting eyes the color of midnight. “Can I come in?”

If he wasn’t mistaken, she seemed nervous, edgy, even hesitant. “Of course.”

She brushed past him, her boot heels echoing on his hardwood floors. He closed the door and turned to regard her. “Is everything okay, Scully?”

Her eyes locked on his and she pulled him toward her like a magnetic force, kissing him hard and full. One small hand grabbed a handful of his cotton tee shirt, and she pinned him to the door like a butterfly. Shock surrendered to yearning and he drank her like nectar.  His eyes slammed shut. If it was a dream, he would not wake. Not ever.

She pulled back first and he was immediately regretful. His lips chased hers forward as she moved back. She placed a firm, tiny hand to his heaving chest and the separation between them was painful. “Scully?” was all he could manage between staccato breaths.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.” He swallowed hard and concentrated on not sliding to the floor in an undignified puddle. His brain swirled like cotton candy. He sensed there might be a bigger conversation for them to get to, but they both seemed hung up on Hi. She was still pressing him into the door and the knob dug uncomfortably into his lower back.

“Scully?” he breathed.

“Yeah?” Her eyes swam beneath heavy lids.

“The doorknob’s digging into my ass.”

She snorted and relaxed her shoulders in a quiet laugh, loosening her grip on his shirt. He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck affectionately and they both waited for their breathing to regulate.

After a long moment, he decided to give words a try again. “Out of all the ways you’ve ever greeted me, I like this one the best.”

Her cheeks flooded with color and she dipped her forehead to his and smiled.

“I have to ask,” he said, hesitantly, “because I’m afraid to assume too much, to jump to conclusions…”

His statement lingered, but his gaze locked on hers.

She offered the smallest of nods and her whisper was as thin and frail as a gossamer thread. “Jump.”

Their eyes shared an entire intimate conversation while they stood frozen, chasing their breath. He’d remember the moment for the rest of his life.

“Scully, I-“

“Shhh.” Her finger went to his mouth. “Just listen for a minute because I can’t say this twice.”

He waited, a shadow of trepidation on his face.

There was a vulnerability in her eyes that shattered him just a little and he wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let go. But he didn’t. Instead, he did what she asked. He listened.

“I made a decision in the last forty-eight hours that was one of the most difficult I’ve ever had to make. I walked away from someone who I care deeply for, from someone…I love. Make no mistake,” her eyes met his straight on, “I could have been happy with him.”

He felt a hint of nausea because he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was telling him the truth.

She took his hand between both of hers, tracing her finger lightly over his knuckles. “But what I feel for you, Mulder, It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.” Her eyes flooded and her gaze drifted to the ceiling, searching for the words. “It’s this fierce, overwhelming, intense devotion. It’s all-consuming and at times, downright terrifying. There are moments when I feel like I can’t breathe under the sheer force of it. I can’t fight it – believe me, I’ve tried. And I don’t want to.” She huffed and bit her trembling bottom lip. “So it seems to me that…there really is only one answer.”

The look of raw emotion on her face was soul-crushing. In that moment, he knew he had no choice but to be a better man for her.

She took a long, cleansing breath. “So you’ve got your chance, Mulder. But I need you to know that a price was paid, that there was a cost.”

He swallowed hard. “I know, Scully, I know. Thank you.” He folded her into his arms and she molded to him, tucking her head beneath his chin in that magical spot. It was her spot. Hers and hers alone. It should have her name on it, like reserved parking.

“I wish I knew what to say or do, Scully.” He nuzzled her hair with his nose, inhaling her like a drug. He was an addict and she was his opium. “I’m admitting that I don’t. All I know how to do is be desperately in love with you.”

She huffed, her breath hot through the soft cotton of his shirt, her tears damp. “It’s a start.”

“I won’t ever intentionally hurt you. I’ll do anything to make this work.”

She leaned back to look at him, sympathy and resignation in her eyes. “I believe that.”

The promise was more real and heartfelt than any he’d ever made. But the years had taught them both that very little remained in their control. He couldn’t slay all the dragons for her, but dammit, he’d die trying.

His fingers slid through the cool silk of her hair. “What do you need from me, Scully?”

She wet her lips. “Time. I need for us to take this slowly.”

He nodded. “I can do slow. You lead the way, Scully. Where do we go from here?”

She smiled up at him gently and then led him into the living room to his battered old leather sofa. He sat down first and held his open arm out to her and she folded herself into him, resting her head on his chest with a sleepy sigh. “For tonight, maybe just this.”

He kissed the top of her head tenderly. “This is perfect.”

She was quiet for a long time, her respiration relaxed and even. He wondered if she’d fallen asleep and he was thinking he rather liked that idea when she finally spoke. “Your apartment’s clean.” Her words sounded muffled against him, but he picked up on a hint of amusement.

He caressed her upper arm. “I have standards.” He smiled.

“Since when?”

“Since I started thinking I might be having company here a lot more often.”

 

END PART TEN


	30. Chapter 30

EPILOGUE

One Month Later, FBI Basement Office

When she strode in, balancing two Styrofoam bowls precariously aboard a small stack of files, he was on the phone. He acknowledged her presence with a toggle of a brow and swung his feet off the desk, as if she cared about such things. Since when? She was inwardly amused by the fact that since the launch of their more-than-just-a-partnership, his manners had taken on a notable improvement, at least around her. He even took his shoes off in her apartment now. She didn’t even do that. It was completely not necessary, and she was completely smitten by it anyway.

She waved one of the bowls enticingly under his nose, then placed it in front of him. The plastic spoon swam in the brown puddle and he’d better get his priorities straight, get off the phone, and eat it before it melted.

He hung up. “What’s this?”

“Chocolate almond, I think. It might be chocolate peanut butter cup. The intern scooping looked terrified and I didn’t want to ask.”

“So they were actually serious about sundae socials on Friday afternoons? I thought that was a joke,” he admitted, licking the back of the spoon with that distracting pink tongue.

“Apparently not. Skinner was there eating cookie dough. He gave me a dirty look for sneaking out.” It was the Bureau’s latest attempt to foster teamwork and camaraderie among overworked, disgruntled agents. They were supposed to actually stay and talk to people. To pretend they really wanted to make pointless conversation with the IT guy whose breath smelled like stale Doritos. The result was that people showed up for the free food, and then made a break for it when nobody was looking. Sooner if their immediate supervisor wasn’t there.

“Good news,” he said, stirring his ice cream into a goopy mess like he liked it. “Chloe Elizabeth Fletcher. Eight pounds, two ounces.”

She grinned. “Nikki had the baby.”

“Last night. Everybody’s doing well.”

“We should send a gift,” she mused.

He nodded in agreement. “I don’t know how to shop for babies.”

“It’s not all that hard. Nothing sharp…no small moving parts…nothing that would pose a choking hazard…”

He perked up. “A basketball would work. It’s never too early.”

She scratched her head patiently. “She’s a day old. It might be a little early.”

“I saw this Bart Simpson doll the other day. It said five different phrases.”

“I’ll get something and put both our names on it,” she said, patting his hand.    

He watched her eat. “What’s that?”

“Frozen yogurt,” she replied, preparing for the inevitable attack on her choice of junk food. “With sprinkles,” she added, defensively.

“No, I mean the files.”

“Oh, right.” She finished off her last bite and tossed the bowl into the trash can. “I stopped by the forensics lab. Five out of the six cases you sent down are done, all with the same conclusion.”

He nodded anxiously like a child waiting to open his gift.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Mulder.” She coddled him with a tilt of the head. “Legionellosis. The last case will no doubt show the same.”

“Legionnaire’s Disease? Isn’t that treatable?”

“In seventy percent of cases in people with normal immune systems, if it’s detected early. These were elderly patients with compromised immune systems. Transmission occurs by breathing in mist from water that contains the bacteria. It’s an old nursing home; it could be in the air conditioning ducts or in the bathrooms. I think the CDC can take it from here.”

He sighed. “And I was so looking forward to booking us tickets to Louisiana. It’s the weekend of the Giant Omelette Festival.”

She licked her lips and bent low over him to retrieve the files. “I guess we’ll just have to make our own fun here then.” She was almost certain that she heard him swallow.

“Will there be omelettes?”

“It could involve breakfast.”

He was breathing through his mouth now and she had to bite back a wicked grin. She took her time gathering the papers and tucking them back into the files, all the while leaning over his seated form, offering him a straight shot view down her blouse.

They’d been playing this game for weeks now. She’d never considered herself much of a tease, but that desperately hungry look he’d been wearing lately held a certain appeal. And she wasn’t immune to his charms either. She had to admit to more than a few occasions when she’d spent more time blissfully zoned out over the fit of his suits than on anything that could be loosely classified as work. She was oddly infatuated with his forearms. They were tanned and muscular and, she suspected, more than fully capable of supporting her weight while he pinned her to a wall.

He wouldn’t touch her at work, not like that anyway. They had a silent understanding. He might kiss her silly in the front seat of his car, but once they crossed security clearance, they maintained a strict hands-off policy. It was open season, however, on the teasing and innuendo. If flirting had been an Olympic sport, they were going for the gold.

Ridiculous as it may sound, underwear was important to her in more than just a functional way. It stemmed from being a female in a male-dominated profession and having to adhere to a dress code that was decidedly unfeminine. Even if no else saw it, underneath the conservative wool suits, she was every bit a woman, and her lingerie bill was proof. She almost spent more on her underwear than she did on her shoes. Almost. A rainbow of matching bra and panty sets nested together in her dresser drawers like attentive solders, ready to be called to duty. Satin or lace, bikini or boy cut, plunge or demi -  she liked having choices.

Lately, she wasn’t the only one who was hyper-aware of what was going on underneath her suits. Mulder seemed to have caught on to the idea that there was more than meets the eye. He ogled her like she was a Cracker Jack box and he was fully prepared to dig for the prize.

She was wearing one of her favorites – the deep purple plunge-style satin that did truly inspirational things to her cleavage. By the dizzy look on Mulder’s face, he’d just got an eyeful. The matching bikinis had a sheer lace front. He hadn’t discovered that yet, but she was thinking that by the end of the night, he would.   

She was feeling brave and dangerous. Sliding onto his desk to face him and crossing her legs, she cleared her throat. And then smiled. Was he blushing?

“Do you want to get some dinner?” she asked, innocently.

He nodded, slack-jawed. “Sure.” 

She shifted the smallest amount, her slim black skirt inching up her thighs. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up flashing him the lacy band at the top of her thigh-highs. We couldn’t have that, now could-whoops! Guess she wasn’t very careful.

He absolutely couldn’t meet her eyes.

“What are you in the mood for?” she asked, baby blues innocently wide.

His face snapped up and his panicked eyes caught hers.

“Thai or Mexican?” she clarified. “Or we could try that new little Italian bistro on Fourteenth.”

“Anything you want,” he squeaked.

“Mmm, well then,” she pondered, running a fingernail in a lazy circle around her knee cap. “I think I might be in the mood…for something a little more private. We could go to my place and…cook.”

He recovered and leveled a smirk at her. “You’re having fun, aren’t you?”

She bit her bottom lip. “Whatever do you mean?”

He was on his feet in a split second pulling her up, hard and fast, until she was flush against him. She yelped in utter shock and surprise. So much for their hands-off policy at work. His nostrils flared like a bull and his eyes sparked with intense desire. She could feel his hand, firm and solid at her back, clutching her to him, her breasts pressed hard to his chest. God help her, she was excruciatingly turned on.

He dipped his face closer to hers until their lips were mere millimeters apart. “I think you’re a tease.”

She wavered a little on her feet. “No,” she whispered. “To tease is to arouse desire with no intention of satisfying it.” She blinked once, slowly. “In this case…that definition does not apply.”

He stood stone-still for a long moment before springing to life. His large hand grasped hers tightly and he pulled her toward the door in three long strides. “Come on.”

She managed to swipe her jacket and purse off the back of a chair as her little feet struggled to keep up. She giggled. “What are we doing?”

“We’re leaving.”

“It’s not even five o’clock, Mulder.”

“They can dock my pay.”

They were nearly out the door when the phone rang. Anxious looks were exchanged.

“Let it go to voice mail,” he pleaded.

Her shoulders slumped and she sighed, tearing away long enough to trot over to the desk and pick up the receiver. “Scully.”

“Agent Scully, is Agent Mulder there?”

She looked over at him standing in the doorway, shaking his head back and forth and mouthing the word ‘no.’

“Yes, he’s here, Sir.”

Mulder’s head lolled back and his eyes closed for a moment before he walked over with his hand held out. “Mulder….No, not at all, Sir, I was just, um, finishing up some paperwork before the end of the day. Uh huh….uh huh…yes….right now, Sir? Um, suuuuure. Now is….fine. I’ll be right up.”

He hung up and his face looked like he had just been told Christmas was cancelled. He held up his forefinger and thumb, an inch apart. “This close, Scully. We were this close to a clean get-away.”

“What does he want?”

“Me. In his office. Now.”

“Why just you? What did you do this time?”

He made a silent “ha ha” face. “Nothing. VCU has a case they need a consult on and Skinner wants me to review the files over the weekend and see if I can piece together a profile.”

“Tonight?” Now she sounded desperate.

“No.” He walked to the door again and smiled knowingly down at her. “Before Monday, that’s all. Why don’t you go on ahead. I’ll be fifteen minutes in Skinner’s office and then I’ll meet you back at your place. We’ll pick up where we left off.”

She wetted her lips and fingered his tie teasingly. “I’ll be waiting.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Make that ten minutes.”

*******

 

His meeting with Skinner stretched to twenty minutes and he began squirming in his seat like a child who had to pee. After a string of curious looks and several inquiries after his well-being, Skinner dismissed him with a wave of the hand and told him to have a nice weekend. Mulder sprinted to his car like the Hoover building was on fire.

The late afternoon traffic was heavy, but moving. With any luck, he’d be to her place and carefully removing tiny lacy things with his teeth in forty-five minutes, give or take.

As he eased through traffic, his thoughts went to the past month. She was going to kill him. She was literally going to kill him if he didn’t get her into bed soon, and he meant that with the utmost respect for both her, and her desire to take things slowly. One month ago, he had told her he could do slow, no problem. He had no fucking idea that he was in for the most intense foreplay in the history of time.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand. He did. It wasn’t that he wasn’t sympathetic. He was. The night she came to his apartment a month ago -  the night she walked from another man’s arms into his – he felt like the luckiest man alive. He was the underdog, rising up from the shadows to overtake his opponent in sudden death overtime and steal the victory.  She had done something difficult and brave and, he really hoped, wise in choosing to be with him. All she asked for was time, and he had every intention of giving it to her.

It would just be a whole lot easier if she didn’t come over to watch a movie, and then slide her ass into his lap and her tongue into his mouth before the credits rolled.

You would think that after more than five years of being devoted friends, of suppressing every tiny morsel of desire that crept in through the cracks, that taking it slow would be a piece of cake. That they would know how to temper the attraction and handle the whole thing like mature, self-controlled adults. But it was quite the opposite. Once they gave themselves permission to feel it, the desire nearly drowned them both.

His trusty old leather couch had seen more action in the past month than it had in its entire existence. It seemed to be their make-out venue of choice, although the Persian rug in front of her fireplace was a close second. They had spent nearly every evening together, with the exception of one when she had met her mother for dinner, and another when they had both been so jet lagged and sleep-deprived that when he dropped her off after their flight, she accidentally dragged his suitcase up to her apartment instead of her own. He didn’t realize it until he unzipped her bag looking for his shaving kit and was greeted with something lacy, pink and preposterously tiny, along with a floral bag full of mysterious lotions and creams. He had absolutely no idea what any of them were for. He uncapped and smelled them all.  

Things had gotten noticeably intense lately, yet still, he vowed to keep his promise to take it slow. Last Saturday, she had stayed for a late movie and wound up with her blouse fully unbuttoned and his hands bracketing her hips as she slid her denim-clad ass back and forth over his erection. He had been three seconds away from going for her zipper when she had whispered goodnight through labored breaths, smoothed her hair, buttoned her blouse, and staggered out, leaving him feeling like a horny teenager on prom night.

Several nights ago, a well-meaning goodbye had quickly spiraled into her fingernails scraping his scalp and his hands kneading her ass like two ripe melons. She had her tongue wedged in his ear when he decided to go for it by sliding one brave hand underneath her skirt, up the inside of her smooth, petal-soft thigh. His thumb had just barely grazed the slippery fabric of her panties when she sucked in a quick breath and he could practically hear the brakes squeal as everything ground to a halt. Her hand came down to still his.  “Mulder,” she panted. “I-I don’t know…”

He gulped for air, his lust-riddled brain sputtering. His cock felt like a knife between his legs. “Really?” he groaned. “Because just now, you sort of felt like you knew…”

“I mean, I know, but I don’t know.”

He nodded in quiet desperation, holding her head against his heaving chest. Their conversation had drifted into the esoteric. “Okay.” It was the best he could do. “Take your time.”

Her tiny fingers curled over the waistband of his pants.  “When you say it like that, I feel terrible.”

“Like what? Scully, I’m not rushing you, but I can’t think straight with…your-your hand there.” He swallowed.

She released his pants. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want it. But now that we’ve waited…” she huffed out a small laugh, “now I’m sort of…nervous. I want it to be perfect. What if it’s not perfect, Mulder?”

He dipped his face to nuzzle her hair with a sigh. “Then we’ll just keep trying until it is. Sounds like a win-win to me.”

His mind was coaxed back to the present by a disturbing sound. It seemed to be coming from the engine of his car and it was getting louder. Then he heard a loud pop and the various lights on his dashboard lit up like the space shuttle before everything went completely dead. He coasted to the side of the road and threw it in park before glancing at his watch to see if there was any chance he’d just lost nine minutes. He was disappointed to see that it appeared to be a case of just really shitty luck. Then he flipped open his cell phone and started dialing.

*******

Scully had been home nearly an hour when she started wondering where the hell he was. Could his meeting with Skinner really be taking this long? She couldn’t imagine he might’ve changed his mind about coming over. She had thought she had made her intentions for the evening pretty clear. They had been working up to this for a month, but she hadn’t known – really known – that she was ready until this morning when she rolled out of bed alone, wishing she wasn’t.  She had fixed herself a cup of coffee and toast and had sat there at the kitchen table pondering how utterly ridiculous it was that he was halfway across town doing the exact same thing instead of sitting across from her, admiring her rumpled bed hair.

So tonight would be the night. She had been on a mission of seduction all day and it appeared to have been quite effective. By the end of the day, he had been eyeing her like she was a four course meal and he planned to start at the bottom and work his way up. She shuddered and her nipples tightened at the thought. This was the man she had wanted for longer than she cared to admit.

So where the hell was he?

As if in answer to her question, her phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Scully, it’s me.”

“Where are you? Please tell me you’re not still in your meeting with Skinner?” She struggled to hear him through the sounds of traffic and horns.

“Um…I appear to be somewhere on Townsend Road, just north of the Beale Street exit.”

“What happened?”

“Car trouble. I’ve already called for a tow.”

“Is it the serpentine belt? I thought I heard it start to squeal the other day.”

“Nah, it’s really more of a clank, clank, clank noise.”

“Is it your catalytic converter?”

“Um…I’m not really-“

“When was the last time you took it for a tune up, Mulder?”

“I, uh, think it was sometime, um, last uh….hey Scully, can you pick me up?”

“I’m leaving now.”

“Thank you.”

She hung up and grabbed her car keys and purse. Then, on second thought, she dropped everything and ran to the bathroom to brush her teeth and fix her lipstick. She smoothed her hair behind her ears, then shook it forward again. Then wrinkled her nose and smooth it behind her ears with a final sigh. What the hell was that on her collar? She leaned in to the mirror for a closer look. Damn! It looked like a tiny spot of salad dressing from her lunch. Honestly, Dana…it’s a good thing you have a hell of a dry cleaner. She wet a washcloth and dabbed at it, which appeared to do nothing at all. So she scrubbed it. Then she had a wet spot on her collar. Should she change her blouse? Pondering, she unbuttoned two buttons and adjusted her breasts a little higher in her bra, then refastened herself. With one last look and an exhausted sigh, she stalked off after her keys once again. Jesus Christ, she chastised herself. Mulder was standing on the side of the road and she was worried about whether or not her tits looked perky in her stained blouse.  

 

*******

Nearly an hour passed with Mulder sitting in a stifling hot car on the side of the highway. Even with all the windows rolled down, the late May sun was heating up the black interior of his car like an incinerator. He called the towing company back and was informed that they had gotten backed up with rush hour accidents and there were still three ahead of him on the list. He gave them his credit card number and instructions where to tow the vehicle and then he set out walking in the direction of Georgetown. She couldn’t be far away now. Sooner or later, he’d cross paths with her. He would’ve given his left nut for a cold iced tea.

 

*******

Scully had been on the road for about fifteen minutes when she spotted a sea of brake lights up ahead. Traffic slowed to a crawl for another agonizing mile, then eventually came to a complete stop. Shit. She was still at least four miles from where Mulder was. She hit speed dial.

“Did you know it’s exactly 720 paces from the Sturbridge Street exit to the Valencia Road onramp?” his voice sounded scratchy and raw.

“Mulder?”

“Scully, where are you? It’s hot out here. I just handed my trousers to a little old lady in a Bonneville and I’m hoofing it in my boxers. People are looking at me funny.”

Her brows arched beneath her Ray-Bans.

“I’m kidding,” he chuckled. “Had ya there, didn’t I?”

“You’re walking? Mulder, you’re on a busy highway at rush hour.”

“Which begs the question, where are you, Scully?”

She sighed. “I’m stuck in traffic. I can’t see what’s ahead, but most likely an accident. I haven’t moved an inch in ten minutes.”

“How far away are you?”

“From Valencia Road? At least three miles. Mulder, just find a safe place to get off the highway and sit down.”

“Well, the way I see it, Scully. Two objects travelling in opposite directions will eventually intersect, right?”

She tilted her head, amused. “Unless one of them gets flattened like a pancake first.”

He chuckled. “You keep doing your thing and I’ll keep doing mine, and we’ll get to each other. Today, hopefully.”

There was something oddly romantic about that, but she didn’t say it. Cupid’s arrow had never flown straight for them; why should they expect it to start now?

“Stay on the phone with me,” she said, “so I know you’re all right.”

“Okay. What should we talk about?”

“Anything.”

“You don’t think an outbreak of six cases of Legionnaires disease in a small, rural Louisiana nursing home is odd? When there hasn’t been even a whiff of a case in over fifteen years in that area?”

“We’re back to this? I thought we were done discussing this, Mulder.”

“You were done. I wasn’t. You just…distracted me earlier.”

She smiled. “It’s unusual, yes, but not unprecedented. Four migrant workers in New Mexico contracted the disease several years ago and there have been isolated cases in all fifty states over the past five years.”

“Yes, but during the outbreak among the migrant workers, they recovered. The vast majority of cases are successfully treated. But not this particular cluster of six. And that’s all we know of so far. There are probably more cases that haven’t even been identified yet. There have been sixteen deaths in that nursing home in the past year. That’s a thirty percent jump from the previous year. You don’t see anything suspicious about that?”

“Like what? I don’t know what I’m supposed to be seeing. The forensic evidence conclusively showed respiratory failure as a result of Legionellosis.”

“I’m just saying that we know bacteria can adapt over time. What if this particular strain of bacteria, located only in this particular nursing home, adapted itself over time to something specific in the living cells of these patients?”

She rubbed her forehead. “You mean like killer bacteria that can think? Mulder, please tell me you’re not serious. Even if that were possible, the forensic evidence would show some sort of a mutation in the bacteria.”

“What if the bacteria has adapted in such a way as to appear identical to your run-of-the-mill Legionellosis bacteria, but, in fact, is really something much deadlier? Sort of like MRSA is a form of staph, but in a more dangerous and resistant form.”

She sighed and shook her head, sensing she wasn’t about to win this one tonight, unless she could distract him. And she had a pretty good idea how to do that. “Mulder, tell you what. I’ll make a deal with you. Let’s wait for the CDC report on the nursing home to come back next week. If there are additional unexplained cases, then we’ll go. But for this weekend, can we please concentrate on other things? Like us…you and me….my apartment….tonight. Alone.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, she heard his breathing quicken.

“Scully, what are you wearing?”

She giggled.

“What?” he asked, innocently. “Aren’t I allowed to ask you that now? Six years of asking it and don’t you think I finally deserve an answer?”

“You know what I’m wearing. The same thing I was wearing when I left the office.”

She heard him hiss through the receiver.

“It’s just a suit, Mulder. One of many you’ve seen me wear countless times before.”

“It wasn’t the suit I was thinking about.”

Oh that.

“I guess you’ll just to wait and see,” she said, with a notable husk to her voice.

“Did you mean it today? Do you really want…tonight?”

She found it adorable that he couldn’t find a word to use for it.  “You mean do I want you to make love to me tonight?”

A loud cough punctuated the line and she bit back a grin.

“Yes, I do,” she said. “Very much.”

Nothing more from him on the other end, but she heard loud shuffling and breathing. “Mulder? Are you okay? What are you doing?”

“Walking faster.”

She giggled. “It’s not a limited time offer, you know.”

“Scully, the planets are aligned against us. I’m convinced of it.” His words came in pants as she pictured him striding purposefully in his pressed wool slacks and polished Italian leather shoes. “Anything could happen before I get to you – hurricane, earthquake, lightning strike, hostile takeover, meteor collision, air raids, stampedes, floods….bee stings. Just anything. The world is a ridiculously random place, Scully. And I can’t take that chance.”

She smiled. “Well, hopefully epic natural disaster and world domination can hold off just a little longer. I’m moving again. Slowly, but traffic is gradually picking up.”

“That’s good because I’m sweating buckets. Since when has it been this humid in May?”

“Record - breaking temperatures in the District.”

“Let’s put in for an immediate transfer to the Anchorage office. We’ll get a nice igloo together and ride a moose to work.”

She grinned wide, wondering if he realized that he had just off-handedly suggested they shack up together.

 “I need a shower, Scully.”

“I think we can arrange that. Where are you now?”

“Uhhh, I’m trying to read the sign. I left my glasses in my lemon of a car. It looks like…I’m coming up on Hamilton.”

“I’m about four blocks away. I’ll start watching for you.”

“I’m the guy who looks like he went for a swim in his suit.”

“I’m up to 40 miles per hour now. Wait, shit, we’re breaking again. Wait, nope, false alarm. The guy in front of me is trying to eat a taco and drive.”

He groaned. “Don’t talk about food. I’m starving.”

“Mulder, I watched you eat a foot long sub for lunch and a bowl of ice cream right before we left work.”

“I walked it all off. Besides, I think I might need an extra calorie reserve for later.”

“I think I see you!” She squinted. “Never mind. It’s only a sexy guy with his jacket slung over his shoulder, talking on his cell phone.” She could see him smile through the windshield.

“Maybe you should pick him up, take him home, and show him a thing or two.”

“I think I’ll do that.” She pulled up next to him and he folded his phone closed and opened the car door.

“Going my way, Baby?”

She returned a teasing smile. “Always.”

 

*******

Scully’s Apartment, Georgetown

He stood behind her in his clean change of clothes and shifted his feet as she unlocked the door. How many times had he entered this apartment? Dozens of times? Hundreds? He’d come there before to work on cases, to eat dinners, to pick her up for trips, and coerce her into following him on hair -  brained schemes in the wee hours of the morning. To have her convince him that he wasn’t crazy, or that, even if he was, he wasn’t in it alone. He’d been there drunk, sober, angry, hurt, depressed, and almost dead.

But he’d never been there for the sole purpose of sleeping with her.

It wasn’t as if they could even pretend there was another motive, or that he was there for any other reason that night. He had asked her what she wanted and she had told him. It was out there and the sweet scent of it hung in the air between them. He had been hard, on and off, since he got into her car three hours ago.

They had stopped at his apartment right after she picked him up so he could shower and change out of his sweaty clothes. Then they’d gone in search of food, having abandoned all good intentions of cooking something at her place. They were both hungry and thinking of little else than where the night would undoubtedly lead. Food was a necessary hurdle. They ate pizza slices at a New York style deli around the corner from his apartment where they’d been plenty of times before. She ate less than usual and he thought maybe she was as nervous as he was.

He’d never been one to suffer performance anxiety before. His sexual experience was, by his best estimate, unremarkably average for a man his age. He knew his way around between the sheets and even suspected, if the reactions of his former partners could be relied upon, that he was rather skilled at certain maneuvers.

He wondered about her sometimes. He had long suspected that the buttoned-up, emotionally-detached persona that she portrayed was a smoke screen for a woman whose monumental passion could reduce most men to the mentality of a single-celled organism. He was convinced that her essence had more rooms in it than the Ritz Carlton. She mystified him in body, mind and soul.   

He was overcome by the thought that this might possibly be the last woman he would ever be with. He found it comforting and enticing more than anything else. There was nothing to mourn of his bachelorhood. How long had he belonged to her? Far longer than the thinking mind could comprehend. He suspected that one lifetime would not be enough with her. 

 The door clicked shut behind them and the silence was deafening. She tossed her purse onto a nearby table and he approached her calmly. The room was shadowy, the only light coming from a small ceramic lamp that cast a meager sixty watt glow.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” he asked, realizing too late that he was offering her a drink in her own apartment.

She shook her head slowly and slid both hands to his upper arms, nimble thumbs tucking themselves under the short sleeves of his heather grey tee shirt. Her hands were warm and he closed his eyes and swallowed.

“Do you want to…watch TV or something?”

Another head shake, more subtle this time and accompanied by a breathy “no.”

He was afraid to actually look at her. They might burst into flames. He couldn’t understand why nothing cosmic had occurred to stop this from happening yet.

He huffed out a weak breath, trying to diffuse the anxiety that only he seemed to be feeling. “So…you just want to jump right into bed then.”

One tiny strong hand went to the back of his neck and she stepped in closer. “No. I want you to take my clothes off first.”

His mouth went instantly dry and his vessels sprang to life, redistributing blood to much more promising places. Certainly not his brain, since he could think of absolutely nothing even remotely intelligible to say. He managed a desperate humming sound as his mouth sought hers like a magnetic force. Thankfully, at least one part of his body knew what to do while his brain was on temporary hiatus. Make that two, he thought, as his cock responded like it had just received an engraved invitation. He gently lifted and deposited her onto the table behind her, decreasing their height differential by half. She hummed into his mouth, indicating that she approved of the new and improved angle.

They kissed like they were exchanging life forces. Who knew the answer to the mysteries of the universe could be found in the sugar sweet mouth of a tiny redhead? Her tongue swiped and teased like a frantic game of tag. Apparently, he was “it” and he took up the chase like his life depended on it.

If only he didn’t need oxygen. Such an inconvenience. His lips slid from hers and he sucked in air as her vampire mouth skated down his jaw and attached itself to his collarbone.  

His eyes darted past her to the door to her bedroom. The ridiculously simple concept of how to get her there was paralyzing his brain like a pair of knotted shoelaces. Lead her by the hand? Throw her over his shoulder? He must’ve taken too long to decide because his impatient little vixen encircled his waist with two bent legs and wrapped her arms around his neck like a life preserver. The animal within him emerged and he clutched at her rounded ass with two palms, supporting her weight. There was something so barbarically satisfying about carrying a woman this way. Thousands of years off domestication and how easily one good woman could reduce a man to his most primal instincts.

He partly walked and partly stumbled toward her bedroom, trying not to get shipwrecked on any number of strategically placed pieces of Crate and Barrel furniture. He made it past the end tables and bookshelves only to be nearly done in by a hastily discarded pair of high heels. Just one of the many ways she was trying to kill him.

He spread her gently onto the bed like a smorgasbord and straightened up to visually soak her in. She was still wearing her work suit and the slim black skirt had slid up to bunch around her waist in a twisted ring. She wore thigh-high stockings the color of smoke and the tight lace bands at the top contrasted with her milky skin. Her hips were heart-shaped and feminine, splaying gently out before curving in toward her too tiny waist. They were good hips, child-bearing hips, he thought with staggering sadness.

She kept her thighs pressed together, the thin satin piping of her eggplant purple bikinis riding low under her pubic bone. When his gaze wandered to the V between her legs, she wet her lips and it was, without a doubt, the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. The front of her panties was sheer and he could see just the slightest hint of trimmed pubic hair. The idea that she might have been dressing this way under her stark suits for the past five years gave him sudden heartburn.

She just let him stare, making no attempt to cover herself. Quite the opposite, in fact.  She raised both arms up and tucked them beneath her head like she belonged on a calendar. He had always thought that with her crimson hair, full mouth, and bedroom eyes, she resembled a classic movie starlet or a 1950s pin-up girl.

One enigmatic brow lifted at him and the edges of her mouth curved upwards in what was either a challenge or an invitation or both. In his reverie, he had forgotten that he was supposed to be removing her clothing. He didn’t want her to mistake his inertia for disinterest, so he hastily skinned his shirt off over his head and shed his jeans, tossing them haphazardly in the direction of nowhere in particular, before joining her on the bed in just his boxers. He propped himself on an elbow and leaned over her. His erection, operating on pure instinct, attached itself to her bare hip, unhindered by the thin material of his shorts. 

She stretched her neck for a kiss, her mouth immediately opening beneath his. He drank her in, feeling her fingers twine in his hair, pulling him down, down, down. The sum of her was almost more than he could bear. She arched against him and he fumbled at the front of her blouse, thinking what a cruel joke it was that her buttons were so small and his fingers were so large and clumsy. Clearly, someone had not thought this through. He continued kissing her with abandon and managed three buttons before whimpering into her mouth. She giggled and slid the last two free like a pro.

He opened her like a gift and buried his face in the smooth dark valley of her cleavage. She smelled like warm things – sandalwood and baking bread and Thanksgiving. She smelled like home, but none that he’d ever known. As he worked a hand under her, she lifted in accommodation. He had the two hooks on the bra undone with a swiftness that deserved a round of applause, especially for a man who hadn’t performed such a trick in nearly half a decade. The blouse and bra fluttered over the side of the bed and he found himself staring down at coral pink nipples that rose and fell with her rapid breathing. It occurred to him that his fantasies had been amazingly close, except that perhaps he had not been quite generous enough. She was pleasantly full-breasted, yet well-proportioned for her petite size.

“Are you going to stare all night?” she husked, her cheeks flushing.

He smiled. “Yes.” He met her gaze and held it. “I am.” He stretched the firm tip of his tongue to swipe at one gumdrop tight nipple and she gasped.

Her fingers went for the top of her own skirt and he covered her hand. “I’ll do it. Be patient.” Her hips circled lazily against the sand-colored comforter and the tops of her thighs clenched and released rhythmically. If she was anywhere near as aroused as he was, they were in real trouble.

He eased his way down her body, skimming his open mouth over peaks and valleys, coaxing goose flesh under his hot breath. Her toned stomach muscles quivered and jumped in some sort of erotic belly dance. He had to steady her hips to get her skirt off, managing the hook and zipper in another circus worthy maneuver, and he realized with some amusement that she still had her shoes on, along with her thigh-highs and panties. He mourned the possibilities as he carefully removed the heels and folded the stockings down like snake skins. Maybe another time.

She writhed and twisted on the mattress like this process was taking him entirely too long, and perhaps it was, but that was just too bad. She asked him to take her clothes off and he intended to enjoy every second of it. A man didn’t fantasize about such a scenario for years and then treat it like the Indy 500. She wanted slow, she was going to get slow. As if to prove his point, he dipped his head to hover an inch above her mons and blew a hot breath through the sheer fabric of her panties. She jumped like a live wire, his name leaving her lips in a startled yelp and her bare knees slamming together. “Mulder! Oh God!”

He wanted to bury his tongue so deeply inside her cunt that all he could see, smell and taste was her. He was vaguely afraid that if he went in, he’d never want to come out. With two thumbs hooked into the waistband, he coaxed her out of her last article of clothing, the purple scrap slithering to the floor to commune with other synthetic fibers.

She glistened at him like ripe fruit and he marveled at the thought that she could want him this much. She was everything. The idea that he could have lost her threatened to derail him and he felt his eyes start to sting with emotion. He slid up her body, trailing his hands over her like sculpted clay, to find her waiting, hungry mouth. He needed to make absolutely certain that she knew. There was no room for doubt between them ever again. “Scully, I love you.”

Her fingers twined through his pelt of hair and her breasts heaved. “I know, Mulder.”

He steadied her face between his hands and locked on her eyes. “No. I mean, I really love you. So much I can’t breathe sometimes. This is it for me; there won’t be anyone else. I need to know you know what that means.”

She was contemplative for just a moment before a smile spread across her shadowy face. “That I’ll never get rid of you?”

He chuckled. “Essentially.”

“I think I can live with that.”

He kissed her fully, their lips molding together like saltwater taffy. Her bare breasts pressed into him and he reached his hand between them to cup her gently. She was heartbreakingly beautiful. He expected she would be, but every once in a blue moon, he got more than he bargained for.   

The inky orbs of her eyes traveled his face, welling. He sensed that he wasn’t the only one overwhelmed by the moment. “Mulder,” she said, cradling his cheek tenderly.

“Yeah?” he panted.

“Get your shorts off and get inside me right now.”

He shook his head, smiling. “Somehow I knew you’d be bossy in bed.”

She made a clicking sound with her tongue and pinched at his ass playfully through the thin jersey before reaching impatiently for the waist band. He wriggled from her, pinning both her small hands above her head and waving an index finger at her in mock scolding. “Nuh, uh, uh. There’s something I want first.”

Her eyes grew wide for a split second in apprehension as she watched him back himself down  on his hands and knees and pitch forward to bury his face in her depths.

 

*******

 

To be even remotely surprised that he’d insist on going down on her seemed preposterous. Of course he would. Oral fixation aside, when he set about accomplishing a task, he went at it with the tenacity and thoroughness of a warrior.

And yet, with that first scalding brush of his tongue to her labia, her hips shot up from the mattress like a rocket and her hands clutched at the slippery comforter. He steadied her with a flat palm to her stomach and she settled a little, her thighs falling open. She felt like melted butter under his hot tongue as he explored her folds, making a low humming sound like he’d just discovered the nectar of the Gods. She propped herself on her elbows and gazed druggedly at the top of his head as he pleasured her.

This was Mulder doing this to her. This was Mulder lapping at her like a bowl of cream. How had she gone from trying not to get caught studying his ass in denim to marveling at the feel of his tongue tracing the alphabet on her clitoris? Was that a K or an R?

Her eyes fluttered shut and she flopped back onto the bed, unable to support the weight of her ecstasy. Someone had once asked her if she could choose a way to die, what would it be. She hadn’t had a firm answer then, the pathologist in her thinking maybe massive heart attack or aneurism – something quick and merciful. But it occurred to her now that she just hadn’t been thinking outside the box. Had anyone ever died from receiving too much oral sex?

He abruptly switched techniques, attaching his mouth to her like a suction cup, and she pitched her head back hard, crying out. Her thighs trembled and jerked like Mexican jumping beans. One arm snaked between her legs to clutch his shoulder, holding him to her as she bucked against him with her climax. The contractions spread like waves through her entire pelvis and she rocked into him, again and again, before melting into a heap. He climbed the length of her like a vine, planting kisses on oversensitive skin until he reached her mouth.

She kissed him over and over through labored breaths, her eyes closed and her fingers sifting the soft wheat of his hair. His eyelashes tickled her cheek and she smiled, emitting a deeply satisfied sigh.

“We can go to sleep if you want,” he whispered. “That can be the main event.”

One of her eyes popped open and she arched a brow before cupping him solidly through his shorts. He hissed and his forehead dipped to meet hers.

“I don’t think so,” she said.

He thrust his rigid length gently against her palm, causing heat and friction and a flutter in her stomach. She could tell that he was holding back, that he was almost embarrassed by his need. It made her want him even more, if that was possible. She coaxed him down onto his back and he went, compliantly, unfolding his grasshopper legs until they reached past the bottom of her bed. Her fingernails trailed over the solidness of his chest, making feather light passes over pectoral muscles and combing through springy soft hairs. The outline of his erection was thick and curved against the hollow of his groin, the very tip of it threatening to escape the elastic waistband of his shorts. She wondered if he was self-conscious at all about her seeing him for the first time. Well, not exactly for the first time. But Mulder at ease was clearly much different from Mulder at attention.

With skilled and careful surgeon’s hands, she grasped the top of his boxers and eased them down and off, his hard penis swinging and bobbing with the gentle lift of his hips. He allowed her her moment, tucking his hands behind his head and relaxing while her eyes made appreciative passes over his naked body. He was a startlingly beautiful creature - the trim elegance of a runner’s form mixed with solid musculature and edged with raw masculinity. When she finally paused to glance up at him, he tossed an amused smirk her way, which she returned.

“See anything you like?” he asked, clearly attempting to mask a hint of nervousness, despite the fact that she could spot that vulnerability on his face a mile away. He was actually wondering if she was pleased. If he measured up. Her heart swelled just a little.

She decided to be bold in her answer. She straddled his hips with her knees and bent completely forward over him until she could reach his mouth with her own. They were skin to skin and she wasn’t entirely certain he was still breathing. She sipped at his mouth and then traced his prominent lower lip with the tip of her tongue. He shuddered back to the present and groaned, capturing her in a hard kiss while his hands gently stroked the sides of her breasts. They stayed just like that for some time, kissing and stroking, as their skin became accustomed to the feel of their new oneness.

Before long, she was thoroughly, embarrassingly wet against him, needing more, and she pushed off him with her hands, sitting straight up. Scooting down his torso, palms to his hot skin, she positioned herself over the hard ridge of his cock and proceeded to slide forward and backward over his length, transferring her natural lubrication to him. The round globes of her breasts bobbed gently with her movement. He grasped her working thigh muscles and squeezed and moaned in frustration at the lack of penetration.

“Scully, Scully, Scully,” he chanted breathlessly, his eyes heavy-lidded. “Come on, Honey, oh God…”

*Now* he wanted it, she thought wryly. Now. Not before when she was biting his lip and begging him to get his shorts off and fuck her. Not then. Now.

Turnaround is fair play, Mulder.

She ground into him harder and faster until the thought that he could possibly come this way flittered through her lust-addled brain. He’d be utterly and thoroughly mortified and she couldn’t let that happen. Besides, the idea that after all was said and done, she could still miss feeling him inside her that night, was not an acceptable outcome.

With a swivel of her hips, she lifted slightly off him and reached her hand through to position him. He was panting, a vaguely crazed look in his eyes. She exhaled and slowly eased herself all the way down on his length until she was sitting flush against him. Her eyes sought his out with desperate emotion and she held his gaze for several long moments before starting to rock, getting used to the swell of him and the tender, aching fullness. Like the rest of him, he was not small. She knew from her basic anatomy courses, that most women’s bodies were built to accommodate most men. But given their overall size differential, they had to be pushing the limit. Why would that surprise her? It was true in everything they did together. Why would making love be any different?

He looked up at her worshipfully from below, covering her breasts with two large hands and strumming her nipples. She picked up the pace, sliding along the vertical length of him swiftly and succinctly. After awhile, her thigh and calf muscle burned from exertion and she slowed again, folding forward over his torso, wanting to feel all of him against her once again. He twisted his fingers through her hair as he gently flexed her head back, latching his greedy mouth onto the slope of her porcelain neck. She’d have a mark there tomorrow. She’d worry about it then. Or she’d mark him with her own and let people figure it out. 

Without warning, he rolled her so she was beneath him, managing to stay inside her the entire time. She wanted to come up with an appropriate verbal comeback, like “nice trick,” but before she could piece together the words, he began pumping into her, piston-like. The jarring motion forced a yelp from her and she clutched at the front of his chest. With a shift of his weight, he leaned back and folded one of her legs tightly against her chest, holding her knee firmly as he continued to thrust. His hand snuck between them and he rubbed her furiously, sensing what she needed. “Keep your eyes open,” he panted.

She felt her orgasm looming just out of reach. He bit his lip and the look on his face told her that he was holding back for her.

“Go ahead,” she whispered through labored breaths. “It’s okay.”

He winced and slowed slightly, shaking his head. “Not without you.”

She cupped his face and he stretched down to kiss her mouth, his tongue stroking in counterpoint with his thrusts. “Come on, Scully….with me….keep your eyes open.”

She met his gaze and held it, unwaveringly, and the crushing love she saw there captured her breath and sent her over the edge. She fought to keep her eyes trained on his as the spasms overtook her. He sped up, took several quick, desperately sporadic strokes before surging into her, their mutual contractions melding into some kind of a metaphorical symphony. His eyes never left hers.

It felt like a lifetime until they stopped shuddering against one another. He released her knee and she winced as her leg unfolded and the muscles protested.

“Sorry,” he said, sheepishly. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

She smiled tenderly at him. “Part of my body absolutely loved it. And the other parts will need to start working out more if we’re going to keep having gymnastic sex.”   

He settled onto his back and she draped herself half over him, not even bothering to get under the covers yet. The idea that she was completely naked on her bed with Mulder caused her to seek out random constants around her room – the photo of her and Melissa on her dresser, the Bible her parents gave her at her confirmation, gathering dust on her bookshelf, the pearl stud earrings she wore today, sitting on her nightstand where she took them off earlier while waiting for Mulder to get there. These were all things that convinced her that she was not dreaming. All was as it should be, in more ways than one.

Tomorrow was Saturday. She was supposed to meet her mother for brunch at the trendy little pastry shop near her house. She’d wake up early and cancel, saying that Mulder needed her for something, and it would be the truth, she mused, swallowing a chuckle. They’d spend the morning making love, then maybe take a drive in the afternoon, and perhaps, finally, they’d get around to cooking that dinner together tomorrow evening. Her stomach tightened a little. Was she presumptuous in assuming they might spend the day together, even the weekend?

He sighed and pressed his face to her hair while his fingers feathered her spine. “You’re quiet,” he said.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

He yawned and kissed her bare shoulder. “Whatever you are.”

So not presumptuous then.

He moved to the shell of her ear and tugged at it gently with his teeth. “In fact…my schedule for the next fifty years or so is pretty open. Do you want to hang out?”

She smiled wide in the darkness and turned into his chest tighter. “I’m flexible.”

“That’s good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

She was trying not to think that hard about the implications of that exchange when he spoke again. “I have to tell you something.”

She tensed involuntarily.

“Something embarrassing.”

Now she pulled back and studied his face in concern and apprehension. “Mulder, what?

“The promise I made to you in the car last week. That if you told me the Lady Godiva story that I’d tell you something embarrassing about me.”

She relaxed and sighed in relief. “Oh. That.”

“So I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ve settled on the story. Do you want to hear it?”

She smiled and played lazily with his fingertips. “Of course. I’m all ears.”

He drew a deep breath. “Once upon a time, in an enchanted land, far, far away…in a place called Massachusetts…”

She chuckled against his chest.

“there was a very handsome, brilliant and talented boy named Fox-“

“So this is a fairy tale then.”

He pinched her arm gently. “As I was saying…there was a sixteen year old boy named Fox who fell head over heels in love with a girl named, Caroline Button.”

“Was she a princess?”

“Umm, close. Her father owned a used car dealership. Anyway, this boy, Fox, even though he was handsome and brilliant, he was also terribly shy. He wanted so badly to approach the lovely Caroline, but every time he thought about it, he’d nearly lose his lunch. So he decided that he would woo her with romantic letters and poetry.”

“Woo her?”

“Yes, it means to court, pursue, chase. To seek the favor, affection, or love of.”

“I know what it means. I wasn’t aware anyone still said it.”

“Like I said, this was ‘once upon a time.’ If you prefer, I can say that he decided to try and convince her to let him get to third base in the back of his father’s Oldsmobile.”

She arched two brows. “Did he…want to do that?”

“He was sixteen. It probably wasn’t the furthest thing from his mind. Can I continue? Because this is where it gets good.”

“Please.”

“So Fox scoped out where the lovely Caroline’s locker was, and he began slipping notes to her in the cracks when she wasn’t around, signing all of them ‘From Your Secret Admirer.’ He spent his afternoons after basketball practice scouring library books for romantic poetry. Sometimes he wrote his own.”

She eyebrowed him.

“Yes. It’s true. Anyway, this went on for at least a month before he decided he couldn’t live without her any longer. He had to confess his love to her in person. He sent her one last heartfelt letter, telling her that if she wanted to find out who her Secret Admirer was, that she should meet him on Valentine’s Day, right after school, on the quad behind the football field.

When the day arrived, he was sick with excitement and anxiousness. He wore his favorite crisp button down shirt and tie to school. At the stroke of three o’clock, he made his way to the meeting spot, carrying one single red rose. The field was empty when he arrived, so he waited for her. He knew she’d come. Before long, he heard voices approaching. He almost lost his nerve and ran, but he didn’t. He stood his ground, one long-stemmed rose between his trembling fingers. Minutes later, an entire group of senior football players arrived on the scene, and who happened to be leading the pack? None other than Caroline’s older brother, Carl Button. Now Carl was about two hundred and twenty pounds, the star quarterback of the school football team. And he was carrying a piece of paper in his hands. Fox immediately recognized that piece of paper. It had his handwriting on it.”

“Oh God,” she whispered, a pained look on her face. “Oh Mulder.”

“Carl began reading from the letter aloud, amidst a posse of snickering, jersey-wearing kids. ‘My Dearest Caroline, Your lips are the color of cherry blossoms on a summer day, your hair like spun gold. Thoughts of you fill my days and haunt my nights.’ The letter went on for three pages, saying things about delicate hands and emerald eyes and strangely Shakespearian things that should have made any teenage girl run for her life. And Carl read the whole thing.”

“Oh Mulder…”

“But that’s not even the best part. While Carl was reading, the varsity cheerleaders, who had been practicing on the adjacent field, walked over to see what all the noise was. And guess who was on the cheerleading team?”

Her hand flew to cover her mouth. “Oh, no,” she whispered.

“Oh, yes. The lovely Caroline Button. Who three weeks prior just happened to switch lockers with her brother so she could be closer to her friends. I had been writing love letters to the quarterback of the football team for three weeks. But hey, at least Caroline got to hear the last letter being read aloud by her brother in front of all his friends. And so did a dozen more really cute teenaged girls who knew a lot of other really cute teenaged girls.”

She squeezed him tighter and couldn’t help huffing out an incredulous laugh. “Oh my God, Mulder. I am so sorry.”

“So that’s my embarrassing story.” He shrugged. “It didn’t turn out so terrible, actually. Caroline, who was actually a pretty nice girl, was touched by my letter. She called me later that same night and told me that it was the nicest thing someone she didn’t know had ever done for her. And that, unfortunately, she already had a boyfriend, but she thought I was really sweet. It made the humiliation a little easier to swallow.”

She kissed his cheek. “Thank you for telling me that, Mulder.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t involve nudity, like yours did. I don’t really have any of those.”

“Oh come on, you never got caught skinny dipping or have any of your friends steal your clothes as a prank?”

He wrinkled his forehead at her. “What kind of friends did you have?”

She giggled.

“I did streak naked across the field at a lacrosse game once to get the principal’s daughter to go out with me,” he said.

“Did it work?”

He shook his head. “Maybe she was disappointed with what she saw.”

“Uhh,” she raked her eyes down his naked body. “I highly doubt that.”

“Thank you.”

She shuddered against him.

“Are you cold?”

“A little,” she admitted.

He gathered her to him like a bouquet and shifted, tugging the covers down so they could slide into the bed together. “I’ll warn you, I’m not a good sleeper. If you wake up in the middle of the night and I’m on your couch watching TV, don’t take it personally.”

“Mulder, how many nights have I shared adjoining motel rooms with you? I’ve been listening to your TV through the wall for years. I think I’m familiar with your sleeping habits.” She wove one leg through his. “But you know…if you do wake up and have trouble falling back to sleep…” her teeth scraped a nipple, “you could always…wake me up.”

He hissed through his teeth and palmed her silky hair. “Scully, have you ever woken you from a sound sleep before?”

She giggled against him, knowing where this was going.

“No matter how tempting that invitation is, and believe me, it’s tempting, I’ve learned a thing or two about you as well. Rousing a bear from hibernation may be less hazardous to my health.”

She shifted on top of him and kissed his angular jaw. “That’s because you’re used to waking me for things that require me leaving my bed.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, hands wandering to her ass.

She yawned, beginning to feel sleep tugging at her. “So Mulder, you never did tell me if you came to any conclusions about Henry’s Bishop’s drawings.”

“You mean whether or not there was really anything paranormal going on?”

“Yes.”

He inhaled deeply, his fingers climbing along her spine. “I don’t think so. I think when all is said and done, the connection between Henry’s drawings and any surrounding events was purely coincidental.”

She lifted her head from his chest to meet his eyes and smiled.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to disagree with me,” he said.

“Believe it or not, I am. I think Henry’s connection to certain people extends into the realm of the unexplained. I’m not entirely sure he understands it, but I do believe that there are times when Henry can sense what is in someone’s heart of hearts – their heart’s desire, so to speak. And I believe his drawings are his response to that connection.”

He sighed contemplatively. “You could be right. I guess we’ll never really know.”

She smiled against him. “Mmm, I guess not.”    

She lay stretched out over him like a cat for some time, hearing the steady, measured thrumming of his heartbeat, their breathing in tandem. She was mostly asleep when she felt him tuck the sheet up over her bare shoulder and heard him whisper a hushed goodnight.

*******

She awoke to nebulous early morning light filtering through the slats of her blinds and the feel of solid warmth behind her curled, naked body. Realization settled before she even rolled toward him and she smiled into the smoothness of her pillow. He was still asleep. She could tell by his steady, even breathing. She wondered when the last time was that he had managed to stay in a bed the entire night.

She slipped from the sheets and padded, nude and shadow-like, to use the bathroom, being careful not to wake him. Sound sleep was not something he came by easily, and to know that he had found it with her last night was comforting. She tied her silk robe around her and shuffled to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, and then sat down to check her email.

There were several dozen messages waiting for her. She hadn’t checked her personal account in days. The second one from the top caught her eye. It had arrived yesterday and in the subject heading, it merely said, “Hi.” She smiled and opened it.

Dear Lady G.,

I heard an old song on the radio the other day and thought of you. It happens now and then. Moses and I ate pizza for lunch one day down by the dock and when I refused him a second piece, I got the face. I’m blaming you for that. We both hope you’re well and happy and living your life to the fullest.

 

I’m continuing preparations for my trip with an intended set-sail date of August twentieth. The boat needs another coat of paint and then I think she’s ready. Orders have been picking up at work now that the summer population has begun to arrive. I’ve hired on three college kids and despite that, am still putting in long days myself.

 

I took your advice and asked Frankie out last weekend. We went for ice cream and played golf. She kicked my navy brat ass. She invited me to dinner a few days after that and took me to this weird little organic, vegan bistro place. I’m still not sure what I ate, but it tasted pretty good. You were right – she’s nice. And yes, pretty. I’m not ready to jump head-first into anything, especially with this trip coming up, but who knows. We’ll take it slow and see what happens.

 

Well, that’s about all that’s newsworthy on my end. You cross my mind often and I think back on our week together with a smile. I wouldn’t change any of it. I hope you feel the same. Take care of yourself and keep in touch. If you ever find yourself wandering near Solomon’s Island, stop in and give an old friend a hug.

 

Love,

Adam

 

She read it twice with a smile before going through the remainder of her messages, then went back and read it once more. She had never been one to believe in destiny, necessarily, although she didn’t think it was any accident that she had been on that sidewalk six weeks ago when he just happened to walk by. They had both been in the right place at the right time for a reason. Sometimes life has a way of giving you what you need when you least expect it.

She turned off her computer and stretched before walking back into her bedroom where Mulder slumbered on. Dropping her robe to the floor, she climbed between the sheets. He was stretched like a panther in the middle of the bed with a death grip on her pillow, which he had thieved. It was funny, she thought, how she had always just slept on one side of the bed, as if she had been saving his place for him all along. It sure took him long enough to get here. She slid like a hush and cleaved to his warmth, watching the beautiful slope of his chest rise and fall. She knew beyond the shadow of any doubt that she was exactly where she was supposed to be. 

 

         THE END


End file.
